Out of Defeat
by acantabloom
Summary: New to the Hyoutei regulars, Shishido has disgraced himself and his team by losing to Fudoumine's Tachibana. His desire to regain his honor, or even his place on the team, brings him into conflict with the regular who takes his place, Otori Choutarou.
1. Defeat

**A/N: This fanfic, "Out of Defeat", is about the formation of the Silver Pair and the foundations of their partnership. So I hope you enjoy this! Reviews are, of course, greatly appreciated (and will make me dance around the room in excitement). I'm eager to know your opinion on this story.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis

* * *

How long does it take for a dream to end? 

For Shishido Ryou, it took twelve days, one game, and one crushing defeat before he was unceremoniously booted off the Hyotei regulars.

It was his first opportunity to shine, a chance to turn around the game against (unseeded) Fudoumine. The doubles pairs lost pathetically, but he, Shishido would show them the true strength of a Hyotei regular. Sure, he was a new regular, and unproven. He had been given the Singles 3 slot, and was intended to clinch Hyotei's win. Instead, he had lost the game for his team.

By the final game he was paralyzed. He had finished panicking long ago (Long ago? How long had it been?) The balls blasted past him, one after another, to places he could not reach. Exhausted, dizzy, the only reason he could still hold his racket was that his fingers had locked around in some sort of rigor mortis. His body was dead already, without its honor. He covered his eyes, as if he could make the entire damned scene disappear.

And so, he heard Tachibana's mocking words as if through a fog, or a nightmare. He felt like he was going to be sick, right there on the court. He had caused not only his own disgrace ("Sorry, but I ended it in fifteen minutes" Tachibana was saying), but Hyotei's disgrace.

Atobe made an appearance at last, as Shishido crouched on the court in shame.

"If it isn't Tachibana Kippei," he drawled. "One of Kyuushu's two best players."

"What is _he_ doing at the Tokyo Prefecturals?" someone demanded.

Shishido trembled as he stood across the net from Fudoumine, next to the doubles pairs with their pathetic faces, and Kabaji, impassive. And without looking up, he could feel Atobe's sneer, at a regular who had never really been a regular and now would be a regular no more.

Sweat dripped from his face, down his neck. His damp regular's jersey clung to his body, as if it did not want to let go.

"Fudoumine wins, 3 games to 0". The referee's voice seemed far away. Shishido's ears were filled with the jeers and catcalls of his team. Not aimed at the winners, he was sure, but at him.

Atobe stalked from the court, the picture of righteous anger. The defeated Hyotei team followed him. Shishido lagged behind, already separated from the others. His equipment bag suddenly felt incredibly heavy. It was dead weight—there would be no place on the team for him, not after this. Tradition dictated that a defeated regular leave the team. It would be shameful for a former regular to linger on in the club, with no hope of regaining his former glory.

Shishido, in his elation at being named to the regulars, had never expected to be defeated after only twelve days. Now, he realized that, in losing, he had lost tennis. It didn't feel real yet. It was a nightmare, happening to someone else. This must be some other person with his head bowed low in shame, because this was not how Shishido walked. He had lost tennis? What was there inside of him, except for tennis and the desire to win?

Somehow, he staggered back to the lot where the Hyotei buses were parked. For a moment, he wondered if they would make him ride one of the buses for the cheering squad (and thus condemn him to a gory death), instead of the more luxurious bus for the players. But nobody objected as he climbed onto the players' bus. Nobody said anything at all. He took a water bottle from the cooler in the front, and collapsed in the nearest seat, holding it to his forehead.

He slept. Then, when he got home, he went straight to his room, and went back to sleep. Until he woke, he would not have to face the ruins of his life.

* * *

Shishido woke from a dream of being chased by an enormous lion, to a cold and cloudy morning. At first, he sighed in relief at waking from the nightmare, but his heart sank as he realized that the _other _nightmare was all too real. The game with Tachibana already felt distant, but today he had to deal with its consequences. 

He skipped breakfast, and sat at his desk writing his resignation letter. It war a mere formality, and didn't call for any special eloquence, but his pen refused to form the words. Half a dozen crumpled drafts lay scattered across his desk before he shoved the finished version into his pocket and set off for the tennis practice he expected to be his last.

He took his equipment bag as he was leaving the house, more out of habit than anything else. He knew that he couldn't continue to delude himself with such things—the game was over, the letter to Coach Sakaki was written—but it would have felt too awful to break the habit. He realized that his regular's jersey was not there. Someone had collected it while he slept on the bus. He was almost glad. This way, he would not have to turn it in himself. He wondered if it had been cleaned for some future regular to wear, or destroyed. Probably the latter, he decided. He imagined Atobe ordering his servants to burn it, laughing that maniacal laugh of his. Shishido would have smiled, if it had been someone else's jersey. His own had been so new, and he had taken such great pride in it.

When he reached to school, his impulse was to slink through the back door of the club building, but he decided against it. What harm could it do to walk in as if nothing had changed? If the jersey was gone, and he could not imagine himself a regular, perhaps he could pretend that he was still an ordinary member of the club, who had hopes and dreams.

Practice had already started, so the changing room was almost empty. But as he entered, Shishido encountered one of the people he had hoped not to see, the little redhead who had always treated him as if he was unwelcome and unworthy to be a regular.

Mukahi Gakuto's mouth formed an 'O' of surprise. Then, he assumed one of those looks which might have been intended as sympathy, but managed to be at once mocking, patronizing, and unconcerned.

"Shishido," he blurted. "I heard–"

"About yesterday's game?" Shishido said. "Yeah, I'm sure you did."

Mukahi frowned. "Well, really…no need to bite my head off. I was only going to say—"

"Shut up," Shishido snarled. He didn't want any false pity. His patience had been tested to the utmost for the last twelve days, trying to be civil to Mukahi, trying to act like a real regular. Now, it felt _good_ to lash out. It was sickly satisfying to vent some of his frustration on someone with such a sense of entitlement—Mukahi had been on the regulars for a whole year, part of a successful doubles combination. He was unique, and flashy, and a valuable asset to the team. How could Shishido not resent that?

"Fine," Mukahi snapped, turning away. "Obviously you're a really sore loser. I hope whoever replaces you lasts longer." He marched out of the clubroom with his nose in the air.

Shishido felt a strange pit in his stomach after Mukahi left. His rudeness had felt good a moment ago, but he couldn't help but feel that Mukahi had won the encounter. He was glad that Mukahi hadn't seen the game yesterday, although he didn't know why he should care what that idiot thought. He was even more glad that Oshitari, Mukahi's doubles partner, had not seen him yesterday. Oshitari, who was in his class, was a regular that Shishido actually liked, and had thought of as maybe a friend.

He didn't know how things would be between them now.

Forcing such thoughts from his head, he walked to the back of the clubhouse, where Coach Sakaki's office was. The door was closed, and he heard voices from inside. The coach, of course, and also Atobe. He pressed his ear to the door.

"Shameful," the coach was saying. "We will win in the consolation matches next week, of course, and have our chance at the Kantou Tournament, but I trust you will not underestimate a team in this way again..?"

"It was my error," Atobe replied smoothly. "I believed that by placing a regular in Singles 3…Not to question your judgment, sir, but I do not believe that Shishido should have been on the regulars."

Shishido's nails dug into his palms as he heard Atobe's words. He wanted nothing more than to break into the room and give him a punch on the jaw.

"He had potential," Sakaki said. "It is good to let the pre-regulars feel that they all have a chance of being appointed, should an opening in the regulars arise. Without competition, Hyotei would lose its strength. Like you, however, I expected that Shishido would not last long. Now, to decide on a replacement…"

Shishido unclenched his fists, and backed away. He had been viewed with so little regard? He refused to hand a resignation letter to someone who had expected his failure! He would not play Coach Sakaki's games. He stormed from the clubhouse and fled, away from Atobe, and Sakaki, and his own hopeless situation.

He ran for a long time, hoping exhaustion would numb all his other feelings. Instead, the sound of his own frantic breathing reminded him of the game, and of Tachibana's mocking eyes.

* * *

The next day, Shishido claimed a stomachache, and had his mother call him in sick. It was not exactly a lie—his stomach was hurting, from the sharp pangs of anxiety he was suffering. He went back to bed for a few hours, but his sleep was fitful, and he gave it up. 

He flipped through the channels and watched some anime, but he didn't pay attention to it. Instead, he cursed himself as a coward. Here he was, hiding from his entire school. In class, he would have to face Oshitari, who must have heard every detail of the fiasco. Would Oshitari be sorry he was off the regulars, and that he had to quit the club? Or would he be glad? Perhaps he, like Atobe and Coach Sakaki, had always believed Shishido unworthy. Of course, no matter what he thought, he would appear indifferent. No, spending his school hours in a room with a regular would be unbearable.

And then, after school, there would be practice, which he was obligated to attend until he turned in his letter to the coach. The letter was still in his pocket, but the longer he delayed, the more he felt that he could not bear to quit the club. But how could he possibly continue, disgraced and defeated as he was? No, he must quit. His back was up against a wall. He could see no way out of the situation.

He was only prolonging this torture by staying at home and desperately trying to think of a way to escape. These same thoughts ran through his head hour after hour, until in the late afternoon, he decided to go out to clear his head.

Out of habit, he went to a favorite spot in a nearby park, a tall cement building of unclear origin, surrounded by trees and choked by weeds. Shishido often came here, where no one else ever seemed to come, to hit a tennis ball against the side of the building. He pulled out his racket, and dug into his pocket for a ball. He was startled to realize that he was not carrying one, but only the letter of resignation.

He had a can of them in his bag, though. It was his last can, he remembered. They were good quality, too—a gift from his older brother after making the regulars. He had wanted to save them for a special occasion. Well, now seemed to be as good a time as any.

It had only been a day since he had picked up a racket, but it felt like far longer. His muscles had not forgotten, though. As he hit the ball against the wall, Shishido relaxed into the soothing rhythm and repetitive motion. It felt right to his body. This was what he should be doing, not all the worrying and thinking. This was what he was so reluctant to give up. If he quit the team, would he really also quit tennis? He couldn't imagine not coming here any longer, or leaving his racket in a closet to gather dust. The very thought made him feel cold and empty. He had poured himself into tennis since elementary school. Surely one loss could not take that away.

He was so absorbed that he did not notice the darkening sky or the first few drops of rain. Then, thunder boomed, and a serious downpour began. Shishido hurried to store his racket, and ran for cover. It soon became clear that the trees offered no shelter from what was quickly becoming a major storm. He decided that his best hope was to head home, and he set off at a jog.

Soon, he was soaked and shivering. He slowed to a walk, as the rain was so heavy that he was having trouble seeing his way. He was a long way from the park now, but even further from home. He began looking around for a place to shield him from the rain, but he was in a wealthy residential neighborhood, and there were no public buildings. He wasn't about to knock on some stranger's door.

"Oy, Shishido!" he heard someone calling from far away. He whirled around, searching for the speaker. A flash of lightening blinded him for a moment.

"Shishido!" Someone grabbed his elbow. "Hurry up and come inside."

Then, he was thrust out of the rain, into a warm entry hall. And there was Oshitari, wiping off glasses dripping with water.

Shishido blinked, and tried to think of something to say.

"I didn't know you lived here," he said, and then cringed. Damn, he sounded stupid. He was dripping all over the floor, too.

Oshitari shrugged, and led the way into a brightly lit kitchen.

"I was looking out the window, and thought you should get out of the rain. Gakuto and I were just caught in it ourselves," Oshitari said.

"Yuushi…" an all-too familiar voice whined. "What is he doing here?"

Sighing, Shishido looked over to where Mukahi perched on a high kitchen counter, swinging his legs. He was clad only in a bright red t-shirt that was many sizes too large, and clashed horribly with his damp hair.

"Make Shishido-kun some tea, Gakuto," Oshitari ordered, shoving the glasses back onto his face. "I'm going to get him a change of clothes. Luckily, I think we're about the same size."

"Um," Shishido began. "Would you mind getting Mukahi-kun some pants, too?" Looking at Mukahi's glaring face was bad enough—Shishido didn't need him running around half naked.

Oshitari only chuckled.

"I'll see if I can find something that would fit…unfortunately I'm rather larger than he is." He headed up the stairs.

"Yuushi!" Mukahi hollered upstairs. "I don't want to make tea for this guy!"

"Pretend you're making extra for yourself, then," Oshitari's distant voice floated back. A minute later, he came back down the stairs laden with clothing. He handed Shishido a t-shirt and pair of jeans, and tossed a pair of small green pajama pants to Mukahi, who scowled.

"You better not be giving me your sister's clothing again, Yuushi."

"Don't worry, Gakuto," Oshitari reassured him. "It's mine. From fifth grade."

Shishido snorted, but assumed an innocent expression when Mukahi looked over at him.

Oshitari poured the tea, and brought out some cookies while Shishido changed. Shishido joined Mukahi and Oshitari at the table, and gratefully accepted the tea. He was no longer shivering, but it was pleasant to feel the warm cup between his hands, and the tea slide down his throat. In fact, he felt pretty comfortable sitting here. But he wondered if either of the regulars was going to bring up his disgrace. It seemed unavoidable.

"You weren't in school today," Oshitari said at last.

Shishido nodded. Oshitari could obviously tell that he was not sick, and doubtless understood his reasons for staying home.

"I heard you haven't resigned yet," Mukahi said, nibbling on a cookie. "Aren't you going to?"

"Gakuto," Oshitari chided. "There's no law that says he has to resign."

Shishido choked on his tea. It hadn't occurred to him, until Oshitari had said it. He did not have to resign. Nobody could force him, if he chose to stay in the club.

"To stay would be dishonorable, though," he murmured.

Oshitari shrugged.

"You have no hope of redeeming yourself if you resign. You will be accepting your weakness, rather than overcoming it. You can still grow stronger, even if you are not a regular."

Suddenly, Mukahi snickered.

"Yuushi always says such wise things," he said. "But I think it will be funny if you don't resign. Besides, it was really Atobe's fault anyway. If Yuushi and I had been playing doubles, on the other hand…Well, I hate the fact that we usually can't play until Kantou. But now, Atobe will definitely make us play in the consolation match. So we should really thank you, Shishido, for losing for us!"

"Um, any time?" Shishido mumbled, not quite following the acrobat's train of thought.

"Atobe is trying to pull together the team earlier than usual," Oshitari said. "Like Gakuto said, the real regulars will be playing in the consolation match. He's having Sakaki bring back Jirou, who must have fully recovered from his injury by now. And then, there's your replacement."

"Have they chosen one?" Shishido asked, trying to remain calm.

Oshitari nodded.

"I met him today. A second year."

Shishido gritted his teeth.

"I'm being replaced by a second year?" he growled.

"Apparently he has an incredible serve," Oshitari replied, over Mukahi's "Hey, don't be so arrogant, Shishido!"

Oshitari leaned across the table towards Shishido. "Anyway, I think Coach Sakaki is hoping that he'll be a new doubles partner for Taki. It's good to have someone with some power to put into doubles, and Hyotei needs more doubles players anyway. Gakuto and I are really the only compatible pair right now."

"What's the new guy's name?" Shishido asked, running through the second years he knew from the pre-regulars, and not coming up with any who had remarkable serves.

"Otori Choutarou," Oshitari said. "I don't think he was part of your pre-regular group."

"Nope, never heard of him," Shishido said. He finished his tea. "Well, the rain has stopped, and I should probably go home now. Thanks very much for your hospitality."

"You're welcome," Oshitari said, walking him to the door.

"Do you mind if I give the clothes back to you tomorrow?" Shishido asked, as he left. "At practice?"

"Of course not," Oshitari said, smiling.

When he got home, Shishido pulled the soggy letter of resignation out of his pocket and tore it to shreds. He would prove that he was not weak, he vowed. He would not quit the club, or tennis, until he proved that he had been unjustly removed from the regulars. Perhaps defeating this Otori would be a suitable start.

* * *

After he returned Oshitari's clothes the next day, he walked to his former locker, one of the huge regulars' ones. He hadn't remembered to clear out all of his possessions—he still had a change of clothing in there. 

But when he reached it, a tall silver-haired person, with his back to Shishido, was blocking the way.

"Oh, Shishido-san," the boy said, bowing very politely. "I'm so sorry. This must be yours?" He handed Shishido a neatly folded white shirt.

"Who are you?" Shishido demanded, even as he realized who it must be.

"I'm Otori Choutarou," the boy said hurriedly. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Shishido-san. I really admire your playing…"

"Don't mess with me," Shishido snapped at the second year, his temper snapping. Who did this kid think he was, pretending to be so respectful to the person whose place he was taking? And besides, there was something annoyingly puppyish about Otori. His eyes were large and dark brown, and his hands seemed large for his body. His light silver hair was soft and curly. Despite his height, he was probably weak, Shishido decided.

Otori was staring at him in confusion.

"Um, I'm very sorry if I offended you…" he said. "I hope…"

"Play a match with me," Shishido snarled. Then, more quietly, because he could hardly keep up anger in the face of so little resistance, he added, "We'll see who is the stronger. Unless you're afraid? Don't worry, it won't be an official match."For a moment, he wondered if the kid would refuse.

"I will play a match with you," Otori answered in a soft voice.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think. 

**Edited: Several readers kindly pointed out that it is Jirou who replaces Shishido on the regulars, not Otori. Looking at the manga, I believe that I can justify my decision to have Otori replace Shishido (the main reason is that has great dramatic potential, but I think I can avoid contradicting canon as well). I have edited this chapter (the scene at Oshitari's house) to explain the situation with Jirou, but I would like to include a full explanation here for those who are interested (feel free to skip):**

**After reporting Hyotei's loss, Atobe says over the phone to Sakaki "And by the way, please get Jirou to come in next week."**

**a. Atobe does not explicitly state that Jirou is going to join the regulars (or that he was not one of them before). This could imply only that Jirou has not been practicing with the regulars--perhaps, as I mention in this chapter, he was temporarily sidelined by an injury.**

**b. It is Sakaki, not Atobe, who has the power to pick regulars. We see this after Taki loses to Shishido, and Sakaki appoints Hiyoshi to the team. Atobe cannot reinstate Shishido onto the regulars--he even says to Shishido and Otori something like "Why are you telling all this to me? Go tell the coach" (very loose paraphrase). Atobe must ask Sakaki to keep Otori on the regulars. So all of this makes it seem strange that Atobe would be dictating to Sakaki to put Jirou on the regulars.**

**And some people have suggested that it was Taki who took Shishido's place. Honestly, I can't find it, and I have reread the relevant chapters in the manga a bunch of times for this story. Taki is introduced as a regular in chapter 118 at the same time as Otori, Oshitari, and Mukahi are (before that, we only see Atobe, Kabaji, and Shishido). Hiyoshi takes Taki's place on the regulars. At no point that I can find does it say that Taki takes Shishido's place. If you can tell me where in the manga (or anime) it says that Taki replaces Shishido, I would be very grateful to you, because I am wondering why people have that impression. **

**So hopefully that's a clear explanation of my thought process in setting up this story. I may be quite wrong about the whole thing...but I hope you like this and the future chapters enough to stick with it.**


	2. Begin Again

**A/N: So here's chapter 2 of Out of Defeat. Many thanks to all those who reviewed the first chapter. I am very grateful for your feedback and encouragement. I hope you enjoy this chapter too! (and that it's not too short compared to the first one).**

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis (gasp).

* * *

For probably the first time in his life, Shishido forced himself not to imagine what people were saying about him. It was easy to guess what they thought, as he lined up with the ordinary club members before practice. For the first time in a year in a half, he was not a regular, or even a pre-regular. He had no pride anymore, so it didn't matter what people said. It didn't matter whether they whispered that he was defeated, a loser. They obviously wondered what he was doing in the club today. It was unheard of for a defeated regular not to resign. 

He was pleased to notice that nobody said anything to his face, even if he could hear their whispers, and feel their gazes. Their lame gossip didn't matter. He could ignore it, because it did not compare to the feeling of kneeling on a tennis court utterly defeated, and hearing a hundred voices booing him.

So, today he stood at the very edge of the lineup with those same hundred undistinguished players, waiting for Atobe and the regulars to walk by. Then, he would play practice matches with the other ordinary players, run laps, do drills, and work on basic swings. He would take his turn picking up balls, and cleaning after practice. A 200 person tennis club created a lot of mess.

This was what Shishido had to do to regain his honor. It was a start, but it would not be enough. He had to prove that his tennis skills were strong enough that he deserved to be a regular, although he had not been given a fair chance to display them. Beating the ordinary club members would be easy—it had been easy before, and surely his loss had not taken away any of his skill. Defeating a regular would be a better test. If he could win against Otori Choutarou—surely it would not be so difficult—then he would have at least proved his own worth. He could quit the club without regrets, and everyone would know he had been wronged.

Now, the regulars were passing by the assembled club. How strange it was, to not be one of them. It had not taken long to for him to enter the courts as part of that illustrious procession, proud and secure in his superiority. Now, the others were still there, as if nothing had changed, although he himself had fallen in disgrace. There was Oshitari, listening to Mukahi chatter. Taki was there, and so was Akutagawa Jirou, present for the first time in many weeks. Supposedly, his ankle had fully healed. Shishido didn't know him well—while he had been on the regulars, Jirou had been recovering. Besides, he had heard that even when he was present for practice, Jirou spent the whole time sleeping. Now, he was yawning and rubbing his eyes as if he had just received a rude awakening. Trailing behind them was an embarrassed Otori Choutarou. With his meek posture, he seemed taller and more awkward than the rest.

Shishido wondered if he had looked so out of place, so obviously new, in his twelve days as a regular. He remembered feeling proud walking along with the rest of the regulars, part of an elite company. Surely he had not looked like he was apologizing for his elevation to the regulars…no, Otori looked more like his was apologizing for his existence. Someone so lacking in self-confidence could not be hard to defeat.

And now, here came Atobe, with Kabaji in place behind him. His eyes widened in surprise as they fixed on Shishido in the crowd.

Shishido should have known that Atobe would notice him. Atobe might be self-absorbed, but he always seemed to know everything that went on in Hyotei's tennis club.

"Shishido," Atobe called, pointing at him.

Shishido forced himself not to flinch, although inwardly, he cringed. Atobe also loved nothing more than making a scene—he really should be the leader of the drama club. If anyone hadn't noticed that Shishido's presence today, they would certainly notice it now.

"Hmm," Atobe mused, strolling towards him with a hand outstretched. "I'm not sure if you are a coward, or a brave man, Shishido."

The other regulars glanced back at Shishido and Atobe, before continuing into the tennis courts. Shishido thought he saw Oshitari smile.

"I may no longer be a regular," Shishido said quietly, refusing to raise his voice and join in Atobe's theatrics. "I'm not ready to quit tennis."

"Is that so?" Atobe asked, raising an eyebrow. "Even after your previous performance?"

"I'm not any less than I was before," Shishido said. "I am the same." He didn't believe it, but he would say it until he could.

"Well," Atobe said. "A fine sentiment, I suppose. I don't really care whether you stay in the club or not, Shishido, as long as you don't make trouble. Kabaji, let's go."

"Usu."

Shishido wished that he still had the letter of resignation whole and in his pocket, so he could tear it to shreds again and throw it to the wind before the entire club. Would Atobe consider that making trouble?

* * *

Shishido spent most of the morning doodling tennis balls and rackets in the margins of his notebook, as the teachers droned on. Beside him, Oshitari appeared to be absorbed in his textbook, but Shishido could tell that he was sketching out doubles formations. It was an especially dull morning. It seemed like an eternity before the lunch break came, and when it did, Shishido was left with another unpleasant situation. 

At Hyotei, the regulars ate lunch together in a special part of the clubhouse, yet another privilege. Shishido had never gotten to feel quite comfortable with them, but his current position was just as awkward. If he stayed in the classroom, he would have to endure the eyes and speculation of his class, who would notice Oshitari rising to leave, and Shishido remaining behind.

He realized he had been staring at Oshitari, who had evidently guessed his thoughts. He leaned over to Shishido's desk.

"Just go somewhere else during lunch," he said. "Like the library, perhaps."

"It's fine," Shishido said. "I don't need to go anywhere."

"Up to you," Oshitari shrugged.

Shishido ended up taking his advice. Being alone suddenly seemed very desirable. He picked up his lunch and headed for the library. There was a spot in the back he liked, behind all the shelves, where he knew students were allowed to eat. Or maybe they just didn't get in trouble, because even the librarian never seemed to go that far back. Shishido liked isolated places.

He wound his way through the shelves, and sat down at the table. He sighed. It was quiet, and he would be able to relax and eat in peace, without having to think about anything in particular. He lifted his chopsticks to his mouth.

He heard footsteps, and looked up.

There was Otori Choutarou, holding a bento, and looking as if he intended to eat here.

For an awkward moment, neither of them spoke.

"Shouldn't you be with the regulars?" Shishido asked irritably.

"Um, I'll just be going, then–" Otori blurted at the exact same time, and turned around.

"Wait!" Shishido said.

Otori turned back to face him.

"Why are you leaving, if you wanted to eat here?" Shishido demanded. The kid must be a total pushover.

"I don't want to bother you, Shishido-san," Otori mumbled.

"Do you think you bother me that much that I can't eat in the same place as you?" Shishido said, half-amused. Otori was probably intimidated. He had been too angry this morning, he realized. His loss of control showed his feelings to the world, and that was weakness.

He did not want to chase Otori away with his temper again. That was not an honorable way to treat an opponent.

"Oh, all right," Otori said. He sat down across from Shishido, looking confused. They ate in almost silence.

Shishido realized why the situation seemed so odd.

"Shouldn't you be eating with the other regulars?" he asked.

Otori blushed.

"I guess so," he said, staring at his lunch. "But it didn't feel right."

"You should take advantage of your privileges," Shishido advised. "They might not last."

"I don't know anyone on the regulars, though," Otori said. "The only other second year is Kabaji-kun. So I thought I would wait until I won my first game, before eating lunch with them." He looked up at Shishido, his dark eyes earnest.

Shishido was surprised by his honesty. He wouldn't tell a rival something like that.

"It's true," he said, a bitter taste in his mouth. "You aren't a real regular until you win a game."

"Oh," Otori said, clapping a hand to his mouth. "I didn't mean…"

"It's fine," Shishido snapped, turning his attention back to his food. "Do what you want."

Otori finished his rice, and stood.

"When would you like to meet for our match Shishido-san?" he asked. "The regulars…I mean, I have afternoon practice, but I'm free after that, I guess."

"That's fine," Shishido said. "We can meet at the tennis club down the street, it's sure to be open. You know the one?"

Otori nodded.

"You better put up a good fight, Otori," he ordered. "I hate easy games." That must have sounded stupid coming from someone who had recently been defeated in fifteen minutes, he realized, but Otori did not show any disdain.

"Yes, Shishido-san," he said. "I'll do my best."

"I will defeat you," Shishido promised.

"Not if I can help it, Shishido-san," Otori called over his shoulder.

Shishido blinked.

Maybe Otori was tougher than he appeared.

* * *

**A/N:Keep in mind that Shishido is still confused about his defeat, his feelings, and what to do. His view of the other members of the tennis club (Atobe, and especially Otori) isn't necessarily fair or accurate. **

See Chapter 1 if you missed the note about Jirou and are wondering why Otori took Shishido's place.

Also, there are so many spellings of the names, especially Otori. I chose Otori, and not Ohtori or Ootori, because it reminded me of Lian Hearn's Tales of the Otori (great series, check it out). Anyway, I'm trying to be consistent, but if I goof up, please forgive me (and feel free to point it out).

Please review!!!


	3. Game

**A/N: Here's chapter 3. Once again, thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. I really appreciate your feedback. It is super encouraging, and makes me so happy! I was in a hurry writing this, so I hope it came out all right. Anyway, please continue to enjoy the story. The fateful game is here at last!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Prince of Tennis.**

* * *

Shishido arrived at the tennis club ten minutes before the appointed time, only to find Otori waiting at the entrance, very conspicuous in his Hyotei jersey. Shishido, by contrast, was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. One good thing about being off the regulars was that he didn't have to worry about maintaining his image. Still, he noticed to his satisfaction that his hair was as well groomed as always, while Otori's seemed to be perpetually tousled. 

"Shishido-san," Otori called, waving at him. "I hope you don't mind, I rented a court."

"What did you do that for?" Shishido demanded. "I'm the one challenging you, so don't waste your money."

"Oh, no!" Otori protested. "I'm honored to play you. I wouldn't feel right making you pay."

Shishido resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Look," he said. "How about the winner pays. It's really lame to worry about something like that."

"Sure," Otori said.

"Hey, Hyotei!" someone yelled as they walked onto the court. "Kick his ass!"

Shishido looked around for the source of the voice, but failed to find the speaker. Otori turned red, and stared at the ground.

"They just don't know, Shishido-san…"he mumbled.

"Showing some school spirit, I guess," Shishido said, irritated at the situation, but somewhat amused by the fact that Otori was worried about Shishido's feelings after being mistaken for a non-Hyotei player. "Rough or smooth?" He hoped that Otori would serve first—after all, Oshitari had mentioned that he was on the regulars because of a killer serve.

"Smooth. Oh, I guess it's your serve, Shishido-san."

Shishido shrugged, and walked over to the base line.

He prepared to serve. The tennis ball he held was one of the ones from the can he had opened the other day in the rain.

This was his first match, since being kicked off the regulars. His first match since Tachibana. Since then, he had been tormented by terrible dreams, dreams of being unable to move, or of swinging and missing the ball time after time. For a moment, he wondered if all his nightmares would come true, if he would be unable to play tennis.

His hand was shaking as he tossed the ball into the air. Had he lost so much confidence? Did he doubt himself so much? He tried to force out those feelings, and focus only on the ball. It was everyone's first tennis lesson. Forget everything. Watch the ball.

His racket made contact with the ball, and the world sprang into life again. It was not an especially fast or powerful serve, and Otori had no trouble returning it. They rallied back and forth, watching each other, looking for weaknesses.

Shishido was faster, but Otori had longer arms and legs. Off the court, he might be awkward, but when he was playing he used his body well. He moved confidently, and looked natural.

His playing was not anything special, Shishido decided. He was strong, and his basic form was decent, but he left plenty of holes, and didn't move as efficiently as he could have. It was probably not Otori's fault, though. In a 200 person tennis club, there was little chance of individual attention from the coach or even the regulars. At Hyotei, young club members received guidance from the third-years. Obviously Otori's senpais should have taken more care with him. Perhaps they had not expected that he had any hope of becoming a regular.

Shishido used his rising shot to get the ball past Otori before he had a chance to respond, and claimed the first game.

"Let's see this serve of yours," he called, his confidence building. Tachibana had been a nightmare. Here and now was the real Shishido.

"Yes," Otori said, tossing the ball into the air. Shishido got ready.

He heard a thud, and something blazed past him. He

He knew his mouth must be hanging open, and that he looked like an idiot. He searched for something to say…no, something to _think._ The serve was fast. So fast that he had hardly seen it. It must be a fluke. There was no way Otori could hit something like that, even if he was tall and strong. It must have been close to 200 kilometers per hour. A middle school student couldn't hit a serve like that. He must have just not been watching properly. His mouth was still hanging open, he realized. He closed it. Otori was watching him for a response, and he needed to stop acting like a fool. A fluke. It wouldn't happen again.

"What are you waiting for?" he yelled to Otori. "Serve!"

Another service ace followed, and then two more. Obviously no fluke. This Otori was a monster. Shishido couldn't even seem to respond. Each serve was past him before he could reach it. And even if he could reach one, would he be able to return it?

During the next game, he managed to pull himself together. He didn't win as easily as the first game, but he still found enough holes in Otori's game to exploit. He would have won more quickly if he hadn't been worrying about the next game, and how he was going to respond to this serve from hell. Because if he couldn't return it…

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of the ball's impact against Otori's racket. He flinched, and waited for the inevitable.

The net rippled, and the ball bounced harmlessly against the ground.

Shishido stared. Otori walked forward to claim the ball, his head turned away from Shishido, his shoulders hunched. He looked embarrassed again. So the serves had been a fluke after all.

But the next one, another no-touch ace, proved otherwise. Shishido cursed himself for not having paid attention, and underestimated it again.

After another serve, he was sick and tired of standing there in shock while losing point after point. He would return the next one, or kill himself trying! It wasn't so hard to predict the path of it, after all.

Shishido's racket was blasted out of his hand, and the game went to Otori, now 2 games to 1.

And so it went for the next three games, both of them holding their service game. Back and forth. Shishido could return Otori's shots quickly and accurately, but when it came to the silver-haired boy's serves, it was hopeless. He managed to touch the serve several more times, and was reaching it more often, but his racket was blown away each time. If he got any points at all during Otori's service game, it was because of Otori's faults, which became more and more frequent.

The control wasn't there yet. Otori had an incredible serve, but it lacked consistency. And if he made a mistake, he lost his concentration and was more likely to make a second fault and lose the point. To be shaken that easily was fatal for a tennis player, Shishido knew.

After all, he had frozen in his game with Tachibana, and now against Otori he was finding it more and more difficult to respond. Otori seemed a bit tired after seven games, but Shishido was in worse shape. How could Otori not be exhausted by that serve? But it seemed to be a matter of course for him.

Otori had the intimidation factor on his side, and he was learning what errors in his play Shishido was taking advantage of. He started to pay more attention to some of the holes in his game, and Shishido was responding more and more slowly, and thus could not take advantage of them as well anyway.

Otori won the match, six games to four. It wasn't an utter defeat, but it was certainly a clear result. Shishido didn't feel as drained as he had after the match with Fudoumine, just empty.

He felt so very empty. All his plans had been based on proving that he deserved to be on the regulars instead of Otori, which was now obviously not true. And it was all for nothing. He wasn't a victim. He was a fool. He had never been good enough, and Sakaki and Atobe had known it. His reflexes were too slow, his endurance poor, his focus abysmal.

And Otori–he was good, but not outstanding. He had an incredible serve, which he could not quite control. He was a strong player. But he was not Atobe, or Oshitari, or Kabaji. Shishido could see all too clearly that Otori was much more like…Shishido. He was a wild card, a player that Sakaki had thrown into the mix in the hope that something good would come of it. He was a test, an experiment. The Hyotei jersey he wore—would he keep it longer than twelve days?

Shishido could not even find it in his heart to be angry, because he could see what was going to happen.

"It was a good game, Shishido-san," Otori panted, offering Shishido his hand across the net.

Shishido refused it.

"You don't need me to tell you that's quite the serve," he said.

"Thank you, Shishido-san," Otori said nervously.

"Watch out, Otori," Shishido said. "Your form and control aren't there. You won't last. Nobody will care. They'll put you in a game where you don't have a prayer, and then blame you when you lose. And when you're gone, they'll find someone better, and you'll be left with nothing."

Otori swallowed, and turned his head away. Shishido glimpsed his eyes, dark pools brimming with tears. He raised a hand to cover them.

The sight of this only made Shishido more angry. He grabbed the front of Otori's jersey with both hands and shook it.

"You see this? You damn well enjoy it while it lasts, because it'll be gone soon, and you'll have NOTHING!"

Shishido released him, and stormed away without looking. Before he had been empty, but now he was furious and he had no idea why. Was he raging at Otori, or himself?

His eyes stung, and the world blurred. It must have been the wind.

* * *

**A/N: To be continued very soon, I hope...it is rather sad leaving things like this. Please review!**


	4. Notes

**A/N: Hi there! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading this story, and double thanks to those of you who reviewed :) The first part of this chapter was a pain to write, but the second part has a scene I have been looking forward to for a while. So I hope you enjoy it too!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis**

* * *

As he swung his racket for the fiftieth time, hearing only his own heavy breathing, Shishido admitted to himself that he had no idea what he was going to do. His path had always been so clear—join the tennis club, make it onto the pre-regulars, make it on to the regulars, go to Nationals. Now, he had to forge his own path, and his first try had been a disaster, because he had failed to prove that he belonged on the regulars. 

So, now what?

He had to get stronger. In yesterday's game, he had seen his own weaknesses. He had to improve his endurance and his reflexes. He would give training his full effort, not only in order to overcome his shortcomings as a player, but because if he trained and sweated so that he had no spare moments left, he would not have to think about what he was going to do next. With sweat and exhaustion, he could become numb.

But one thought kept intruding, creeping its way into his consciousness from beneath the mindless repetition of forehands and backhands. He could forget his confusion, his anger, and even (sometimes) the game with Tachibana, but he could not bring himself to forget Otori Choutarou.

Shishido remembered the crumpled look on Otori's face after he heard his angry words, and the way he had turned away without saying anything. He still felt that peculiar mixture of pity, rage, and too many other feelings to count or unravel. He hated how he felt after he had lashed out at Otori, something that seemed to happen every time he talked to him. Why couldn't he control himself? He had screamed, and had been rude, and that wasn't the way to behave to an opponent…or a teammate. To taunt or mock was not dishonorable, but to lose control and be ruled by your emotions was shameful.

It was Otori's own fault for being upset, he decided. Shishido had only spoken the truth, and if Otori was going to cry about that, it was his own problem and not Shishido's. No, it hadn't been wrong to warn Otori. Maybe he would even last longer on the regulars than Shishido had.

But Shishido wasn't going to feel right about the game until he apologized for his behavior. He didn't usually believe in apologies, but the guilt was driving him crazy. Maybe if he could set things right with Otori, he would be able to forget about the whole thing, and focus on something else.

* * *

"Shishido," Oshitari whispered from behind his textbook. 

"Huh?" Shishido mumbled, looking up from the sentence he had been staring at for the last five minutes.

Oshitari shrugged. Shishido assumed that he wanted to know why he was spacing out, but wouldn't go so far as to actually ask.

"How is practice going?" he asked, instead of volunteering information. Let Oshitari glean what he could from that.

"Fine," Oshitari said. "The match against St. Rudolph is coming up, and of course, it's a priority if we want to get into Kantou." Well, obviously Shishido knew that already.

They looked at each other for a minute, until Shishido decided that the game had gone far enough. Of course, Oshitari had known that Shishido had much less patience for such things.

"How about Otori?" he asked at last. "Is his playing all right?"

"So-so," Oshitari said, waving a hand. "He won't make a singles player, but that was never the plan. Hyotei is always drowning in singles players. Otori-kun just needs the right doubles partner, to cover his weaknesses. If he and Taki have a good combination, everything will be perfect. If not…"

The teacher's voice ended their discussion.

"Shishido-kun! Focus on your work! Oshitari-kun! I'm surprised at you!"

Oshitari only smirked.

* * *

Shishido went looking for Otori at lunchtime. There was always a chance that Otori was eating with the regulars now, but it seemed unlikely. He checked the back of the library, but found it empty. Well, probably Otori was not going to go anywhere he thought he might meet Shishido. Which left the entire school to search. 

In the distance, he thought he could hear the sound of a piano, and he wandered towards it, in the direction of the music room, since he had no idea where to look anyway. He listened with more care as the notes became clearer.

Shishido didn't know much about music, but he found it oddly calming. It wasn't a beautiful song, but wash of frenzied and confused sounds, as if the player was venting his anguish on the instrument. The rhythm was unpredictable and jerky, and many of the notes clashed against each other as if they were fighting for dominance. It was hypnotic.

Shishido thought that if he could play piano, he would be making music like that. It expressed so perfectly the way he felt, the dissonance and confusion.

He peered through the door of the music room, and caught his breath. There, bent over the keyboard, was Otori. His back was turned, but the silver hair and long limbs were unmistakable.

Shishido wondered if he should leave, but instead, he slipped inside. Otori did not seem to hear him.

He watched Otori at war with the piano, the agility of his long fingers dancing across the keys, at once gentle and threatening. His body swayed from side to side as he played, his eyes closed, completely lost in the music.

Gradually, a melody appeared out of the chaos, a sweet and simple line that fought its way over the clashes and snarls and floated above the fury. Shishido felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach, as if that music could lift him out of his body.

At last, Otori's tense shoulders relaxed, and his hands fell limp at his sides.

Shishido took a step backwards. Otori turned at the sound of his footsteps, and opened his dark eyes. Neither of them spoke. Shishido felt as if he had been caught spying on some intensely personal moment.

"Um…" Shishido said into the silence, tugging at his hair. "Sorry?" It was not exactly the apology he had been intending to make. He tried again. "I mean, about yesterday, and getting mad and stuff, and yelling, and, I mean, I'm also sorry for coming in like this when you were playing, but I was just listening, and…no, I mean, about yesterday, I didn't want to make you upset, and you looked upset, and…" He slapped a hand over his face in embarrassment. He hadn't wanted to mention that Otori had cried. It was the sort of thing a man should pretend not to notice.

"Shishido-san…" Otori said. "You don't need to apologize." He ran a hand over the piano. "I just like to play sometimes, when I can't work something out."

Shishido nodded. It made sense. "You sound really amazing," he said.

Otori blushed.

"It's nothing," he said, suddenly very interested in the floor. "I was just making things up."

"No, really," Shishido protested. "I mean, it really made sense, what you were playing. I usually just play tennis and stuff if I feel confused, but it hasn't been helping. But after hearing you, I feel a lot better."

Otori looked up, a small smile on his face. That made Shishido feel better too, for some reason.

"You were right, yesterday," Otori said quietly. "It's true, what you said. Maybe I don't have any hope of staying on the regulars. But I think I just need to do my best as long as I can. I'll work hard!"

Shishido shrugged.

"That's all you can do, I guess. Same for me."

"I felt bad yesterday," Otori said. "Because of what you said, but also…no, never mind."

"What?" Shishido said. Otori's eyes widened.

"Thank you," he blurted. "For being angry for me! After all of your own troubles, you were still angry for my sake, even though I took your place, even though nobody else thought about it at all." He spoke very quickly, and Shishido thought he might try to run away. No, Otori didn't do things like that.

He felt his own cheeks burning.

"Well, thanks," he mumbled. "For being upset for me. So let's forget about the whole thing, okay? I'll definitely beat you next time."

Otori started to laugh. Otori's laughter was soft, and musical, and somehow infectious, and he found himself joining in, even though tennis was a serious matter, and not something he would have found funny.

"We should play again sometime," he said. "Just for practice. Which we both need."

"Of course, Shishido-san," Otori said, beaming. "Oh, I need to go back to class! See you later, Shishido-san!"

Shishido was still completely confused, but for the time being, it seemed like he had found himself an ally.

* * *

**A/N: Please review!**


	5. Company

**A/N:** **I'm so sorry this update took so long! I appreciate your patience. I have been procrastinating a bit ( :( ) but I also was having some trouble sorting out this part of the story, since it is sort of entering a new phase, and this is a bit of a transition chapter. I've also been super busy (I'm sure you all know how life goes...) I hope this chapter turned out all right. It contains a lot of thought, and not too much action, but I think it shows some important developments for Shishido. I hope you enjoy it! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.  
**

* * *

Shishido found himself growing used to Otori's presence over the next few days. They ran into each other surprisingly often, in the hallways, or at practice. 

At first, Shishido was startled when Otori would wave.

"Hi, Shishido-san!" he would call, wearing a sunny smile oblivious to the heads turning around them.

"Hey, Otori," Shishido would reply, with a nod. Otori would give a shy grin. Sometimes, if Shishido wasn't in a hurry, they would stop and chat for a minute, about school, or the weather, or any subject other than tennis. Shishido didn't know why Otori enjoyed such talk, but to see Otori's dark eyes brighten during an animated conversation made him feel a bit less worn down with worries himself.

He trained with all his strength during practice, and before and after went on long runs. He still desired the numbing effect so much exercise brought him, but after several days, he could tell that his endurance was improving. Every step was another step closer to…something. He still had no idea what he was going to do, what his goal was, other than to get stronger. He supposed that he still wanted to beat a regular, to beat Otori, but it didn't seem important right now.

By some unspoken agreement, Shishido and Otori ate lunch together each day, in the back of the library. Shishido still thought that Otori ought to be eating with the other regulars. Otori didn't take advantage of his privileges. When he was with the other regulars at practice, he still acted shy, awkward, and out of place. He didn't seem to talk to the other regulars much, either. Shishido didn't press the matter. He remembered how uncomfortable it had been when he was a new regular himself. His own approach had been to strut and use as any of his privileges as possible. As he had been a spectacular failure, he could not say that Otori's modest and quiet behavior was a worse method than his own flamboyance.

Of course, he didn't care whether Otori ate lunch with him or not, even if he found Otori's company somewhat pleasant. He often had interesting or surprising perspectives on things, that, while they disagreed with Shishido's own views, made him consider something from a different angle.

He liked to hear Otori talk about his family, and about music. Otori played the violin, although he claimed he was better at piano. He had quit the music club for tennis halfway through his first year of middle school, but he still took lessons on both instruments.

"Why don't you do music instead?" Shishido asked him one day. "Do that instead of tennis. Seems like you enjoy it a lot, and you're obviously really good. And you seem happy when you talk about it"

"No," Otori protested, ducking his head over his lunch and blushing. "Well, I mean, I guess I've always been pretty good at music. And I do love it. It feels so natural to me. So I don't know why I chose tennis. I was never so good at it, and it's hard."

Otori chewed his rice thoughtfully.

"I guess I like the struggle," he said at last. "I like getting better. And I like to win, Shishido-san."

Shishido hid his smile. Beneath the gentle exterior (which was no façade), Otori always had a hint of steel. He wouldn't again make the mistake of thinking otherwise.

* * *

"You seem to have a friend," Oshitari commented one day. "A second year, too. How unexpected."

Shishido scowled at him.

"What are you talking about?" he said, running a careless hand through his hair.

Oshitari raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Well…" he drawled. "I believe I was referring to our newest regular."

"Otori? Don't be stupid."

At Hyoutei, friendship was not something much valued. Social interactions were more of a way of making connections than something engaged in for personal pleasure. Shishido was not a solitary person, but he didn't have anyone he would actually call a friend. When he was in the pre-regulars, he and the others in his group had been relatively friendly with each other, although they were also rivals. They had done their fair share of joking and laughing. They had trained together, and gone out on the weekend a few times.

Then, a few weeks ago, Shishido had been moved to the regulars. He had expected to find new companionship there, but he hadn't, not really, even though he had known most of them for years. Atobe mostly ignored him, and so did Taki (whatever Atobe did, Taki imitated). Akutagawa Jirou, recovering from an injury, hadn't been around much, and when he was, he was always fast asleep. Mukahi didn't like Shishido any better than Shishido liked him.

Oshitari, who was in his class, was probably the closest thing he had to a friend on the regulars. Even before Shishido was on the regulars, Oshitari had treated him politely and decently, if not without his usual sarcasm. However, Oshitari was a good friend of Atobe, one of the few who had the confidence of Hyotei's captain. Also, he and Mukahi were practically inseperable, and there was only so much of Mukahi's company Shishido could endure.

He wasn't lonely, of course. Tennis was enough for him.

So Oshitari's jokes about Otori being his friend were silly and unfounded.

"I heard that you've been having lunch with him," Oshitari said, still in a light tone of voice.

"We happened to eat in the same place a few times, that's all. He should eat with the regulars."

Oshitari smiled.

"It never hurt anybody to have company, Shishido-kun, not even you."

Shishido pretended he hadn't heard anything, and pulled out his lunch. Oshitari didn't know what he was talking about—he would prove him wrong. There was no need to go eat lunch with Otori today. It wasn't his obligation. It wasn't like it actually mattered. Otori wouldn't miss him.

He didn't move as Oshitari got up to leave. Oshitari watched him, but said nothing. Shishido glared at his retreating back. He hated Oshitari's way of making him feel like a total fool without saying a word.

His lunch was bland and tasteless. He thought that perhaps some important flavor was missing, but he had no idea what.

It was boring eating by himself. There was nobody to talk to. There wasn't even anything to think about. Otori kept sneaking into his mind, unasked for. Shishido imagined his face, at first hopeful, and then his eyes becoming dull with disappointment as he checked his watch, and realized that Shishido wasn't coming.

Surely Otori wouldn't care, he repeated to himself.

Maybe, if he stopped going to the library for lunch, Otori would finally go eat with the other regulars.

But Otori had said that he didn't want to do that until he won a game…and it wasn't as if it was Shishido's decision to make.

And besides, he was being rude, just suddenly not showing up.

He had never told Otori he would come to lunch.

But Otori would expect him…

Shishido glanced up at the clock. The lunch period was nearly halfway over.

Damn it! If Otori was going to occupy his mind anyway, he might as well go eat lunch with him, or at least check and see if he was still in the library. He shoved his bento back into his bag.

He almost turned back several times on his way to the library, but in the end he decided that it would be a lame thing to do. It wasn't worth worrying so much about Otori, after all.

There was a strange, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach when he found their usual table in the back of the library empty. Had Otori come and gone, or had he not come at all? And if he had left, had he been disappointed, or indifferent?

Well, Shishido might as well stay and finish his lunch. He reached into his bag, but changed his mind and slung it back over his shoulder. Staying here would only make him think about Otori even more, and that would just be way too annoying.

Maybe a short walk around the school would clear his mind. And if he just happened to walk past the music room on his way…no! He tugged at his hair in irritation, and went the opposite way.

It was almost a relief when he glimpsed silver hair on a head that rose over the rest of the crowd, at the far end of the hall.

"Otori!" he called, but the second year kept walking. "Hey, Otori!" Heads started to turn. "Otori Choutarou! CHOUTAROU!" he bellowed in frustration. Embarassed, he clapped a hand to his mouth and turned away.

Someone tapped his shoulder.

"Hi, Shishido-san!" Otori said. "I had to talk to a teacher before lunch, and then I was worried when you didn't show up in the library, so I thought I would look for you, but you weren't in your class, either."

"Sorry," Shishido mumbled. "Sorry I was late."

Otori waved his hands.

"Please, don't worry about it, Shishido-san. I'm just glad I found you."

"Yeah."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. Your reviews are much appreciated–feedback or comments of any kind are always encouraging :) I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. **


	6. Troubles

**A/N: Back with another chapter! (and so soon–I hope you're all proud of me :P ) This one's a tad short, and I'm not crazy about it right now...so I hope it doesn't disappoint. I'd like to thank all of my reviewers so far, especially those of you who review chapter after chapter. Love you!!**

**Please enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Nope, nope, not mine.**

* * *

The next day at lunch, Shishido noticed that Otori was unusually quiet. He hadn't volunteered much, other than a, "Hi, Shishido-san", and he seemed to be extemely preoccupied with his food, altough he had hardly eaten anything. A gloomy atmosphere seemed to hang over the table. 

"Hey, Otori, is something wrong?"

Otori smiled weakly.

"I'm fine, thank you."

Shishido glared at him. He felt irritation begin to bubble in his veins. Did Otori think that he would buy such an obvious lie?

"Come on," he said. "You're acting all weird today."

"Really," Otori said, staring at the table. "I'm fine." His voice wavered.

Shishido's frustration came to a peak. Did Otori not want to talk to him any more?

"That's it!" he snapped. "If you don't want to eat with me, fine, I don't care!"

Otori looked up at him, his dark eyes wide.

"Of course I want to eat with you, Shishido-san" he said hastily.

"Then don't just sit there with something obviously wrong and claim that everything is wonderful, damn it!" Shishido snarled, smacking the table. "You'll feel better if you just vent about it already!"

A corner of Otori's mouth twitched.

"But you're doing it for me, Shishido-san," he said.

Shishido's mouth worked noiselessly for a moment, before both of them erupted into laughter. The tense mood was broken.

"Well?" Shishido prompted, in between chuckles.

Otori wiped his eyes, which were beginning to run with tears of amusement.

"It's nothing much, really," he said, frowning again. "I just did badly on some of my recent algebra tests, and the teacher told me I needed to find way to bring up my grade." He hung his head.

"I did pretty good in algebra last year," Shishido offered. "I think I still remember some stuff to. Want me to help you, after you finish practice?"

"Really? That would be great! Thank you so much, Shishido-san!"

"No problem. I should be done with my run by then, anyway."

Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought that Otori still look troubled as he turned to leave.

* * *

Shishido didn't know why he would be worrying about Otori so much. It was a stupid waste of his time, for all that it seemed to happen to him fairly frequently. Otori should be able to take care of himself. He hadn't asked for Shishido to solve his problems. Not that Shishido believed in solving people's problems. He had even surprised himself by volunteering to help Otori with the algebra, although Otori had been grateful enough for the help.

So why did he feel like Otori hadn't been completely honest with him?

The idea really irritated him. What could possibly be the matter? Tennis was a reasonable suspect. Shishido never talked about tennis with Otori, as it was something of a sore spot with both of them, all too likely to bring out uncomfortable memories and emotions.

But what else would Otori be so reluctant to tell him? It was, after all, Otori who was painfully determined to do his best on his own, without troubling anyone. And Otori might be afraid that Shishido would get angry with him about it, as he had before. Otori might be trying not to seem weak.

Shishido tried to dismiss his suspicions entirely, but they gnawed at his mind throughout the afternoon. When practice for the non-regulars ended, instead of going for his usual jog, he gave in to his curiousity, and slipped over the the court where the regulars practiced. There was a hill next to it that made a convenient vantage point from which to observe, but not be observed. At some times, it was filled with fangirls (mostly Atobe's), or spies from other teams, but today it was deserted. He lay down in the grass and watched as the regulars gathered around the captain (except for Jirou, fast asleep on a bench).

"Kabaji, wake up Jirou," Atobe instructed. "I'll be playing him first."

"Usu."

"And, today, Taki-Otori pair with Oshitari-Mukahi."

"Awww…" Mukahi's whine was piercing, even though Shishido was far away. "Again? We've been playing them every day!"

Oshitari grabbed his shoulder, and steered him towards the court.

"Come on," Taki ordered Otori, with an imperious beckon. "You're serving first." Otori shuffled to the service line, looking uncomfortable.

"Fault!"

Shishido grimaced.

Taki turned around with an angry expression and said something to Otori—Shishido couldn't hear what, but he saw Otori's muscles tense.

Otori tried again, with more success—Oshitari failed to return the serve, but Shishido could tell it wasn't at full power. Again, Taki said something inaudible, and Otori nodded.

Otori was doing quite badly—Shishido estimated that more than half of his serves were faults. The ones that went in were unreturnable, of course, but he lost quite a few points from the faults. He got worse as the game progressed, as if he was losing confidence from his own errors.

Shishido scowled. Otori had not been so weak when they had played.

He watched as the match continued. Otori and Taki did not have a good combination. He didn't have to be a doubles expert to see that much. Both of them were nervous or stressed, and making stupid mistakes. They didn't seem to be able to read each other. Taki mostly ignored Otori, unless he got in the way. Shishido could tell that Otori was trying desperately to watch and cover Taki, to the extent that he was not focusing on his own play. The sloppy holes which he had noticed in Otori's play before had widened, and Taki was doing nothing to cover them. Otori wasn't providing enough support for Taki, either.

What a contrast to Oshitari and Mukahi! The more seasoned doubles pair were so familiar with each other's movements that they hardly even glanced at each other. Oshitari controlled the game from behind, trusting Mukahi to pick up all sorts of tricky shots. He himself, in this situation, had no need to play at his full strength. His opponents were doing the hard work for him.

It was slaughter. Shishido cringed inwardly every time Otori fumbled a serve. After a while, he left for a short jog around the courts, unable to watch any more.

He wondered how long this had been going on. Obviously, Otori's days on the regulars were numbered, since his play was poor, and the pairing with Taki was evidently a failed experiment.

Maybe at one point Shishido would have been pleased to see his replacement fail, but that time was past. He only felt that old anger, at the unfairness of Otori's treatment. Otori was _not _a bad player, and if he was so distressed during practice that his play was impaired, somebody should try to improve the situation, rather than leave Otori to stumble along hopeless and alone.

Shishido tugged at his hair in frustration. He wanted to see Otori succeed on the regulars, he realized. It was none of his business, and he should be focusing on himself, rather than on Otori's problems, but he was sure it would bring him and odd sort of satisfaction if Otori could succeed where he himself had failed.

"So you saw today's fiasco?" Oshitari's voice interrupted his angry thoughts. Shishido stopped running.

"You saw me up there?" Shishido asked, a bit embarassed.

"Atobe trusts me to notice if there are any spies, but I decided that you weren't dangerous, and didn't inform him."

"Thanks. Look…" Shishido sighed, not knowing what to say. "Has this been happening every day, with Otori?"

Thankfully, Oshitari chose not to needle him for asking about the second year.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Today was a bit worse, but it has generally been quite a disaster. Otori has not been having an easy time of it."

"Taki's the wrong partner for him," Shishido said.

"Taki has his own troubles," Oshitari pointed out. "He's just as worried about his position on the regulars, and the tension is destroying the admittedly minimal chemistry they had as a double team."

"It's hopeless then? Otori is doomed?"

"Shishido-kun," Oshitari chided. "Very few things are hopeless. I have an idea which I've been meaning to ask you about…"

Shishido listened.

* * *

**A/N: The plot thickens...(cue dramatic music) What is Oshitari's idea? I hope I haven't misportrayed the ever-elusive Taki so far. I think there will be a fair bit more of him. I'm trying not to evil-ify him. He's just stressed...and he and Otori weren't meant to be a team.**

**Please review! **


	7. The Experiment

**A/N: First off, I'd like to wish you all an (early) Merry Christmas, if you happen to celebrate that particular holday. If not, um...happy New Year? (I'll update again before then, I hope, but you never know). Here's another chapter of Out of Defeat, for all of you who were eager to find out what Oshitari's scheme was. You may be a bit surprised. Please enjoy!  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis. I know you're shocked.**

* * *

Shishido glanced across the net, and then back over at his doubles partner.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked.

"Shishido-kun, are you doubting me at this stage?" Oshitari replied. "You should have brought up your objections earlier."

"Well, testing out a different partner for Otori makes sense, but…"

"YUUSHI!" Mukahi hollered from the other side of the court. "HURRY UP AND SERVE ALREADY!"

"…are you sure _he_ is the right person?"

"I'm not sure about anything," Oshitari said calmly, walking back to the baseline. "However, Otori needs a confident doubles partner, capable of speedy net play and returning difficult shots. Gakuto needs a steady influence to restrain his unfortunate tendency to self-destruct during his matches."

Shishido winced. He couldn't object to Oshitari's theory of finding Otori an alternative doubles partner, so that he wouldn't have to play with Taki—there certainly wasn't room on the regulars for Otori as a singles player––but he felt sorry for him, stuck over there with Mukahi. And why exactly did Shishido have to participate in this practice match? It wasn't as if he had any doubles experience.

"Alright, Otori-kun, are you ready?"

"Yes, Mukahi-senpai."

"Watch out Yuushi, we're going to—ack!" Mukahi ducked as Oshitari's serve shot over his head, missing him by an inch. Otori returned it.

Shishido lunged, and volleyed across the net. He thought the shot should be out of Mukahi's reach, but the redhead sprang to the side and lobbed the ball back in one of horribly awkward positions he so loved.

"Not good enough, Gakuto," Oshitari called, returning it to a corner that Otori failed to reach in time.

"Sorry Mukahi-senpai," Otori said.

"Ah, it's fine. Yuushi knows my play that well, so we'll have to be more careful. Besides, Shishido's never played doubles before, so we can just take advantage of him."

Shishido caught Otori's gaze, and rolled his eyes. Otori grinned, and waved at him. Shishido was pleased to see that his expression seemed much happier than it had recently. At least Otori was amused by Mukahi's antics.

The first game went to Shishido and Oshitari. Shishido was surprised to find that doubles wasn't too much of a struggle for him. Of course, they weren't trying any fancy formations. Oshitari was obviously the one in control of the game, but Shishido found himself able to read and predict Oshitari's moves relatively well. They experienced only a few miscommunications, and left only a few accidental openings.

Mukahi and Otori weren't doing quite as well. Shishido was surprised at how well Mukahi functioned without Oshitari—he was obviously an experienced doubles player, and he was trying to balance for Otori's weaknesses without getting in his way.

The problem, Shishido was forced to conclude, was that Otori's play was still sluggish and unresponsive. He didn't seem to be making the same sorts of careless errors that Shishido had seen during the practice game with Taki, but he was responding slowly, and his shots lacked the power Shishido had felt during their game the week before.

It didn't make sense. Otori had been training hard during that week—all the regulars trained hard, and Shishido knew that Otori didn't lack for motivation. There was no way that he had lost strength so quickly. What was the problem, then?

"I don't get it," he said to Oshitari, while they took a short break from the game. "Otori's problem, you mean?" Oshitari drank a gulp of water. "So you played him before?"

Shishido winced. He could never say anything without Oshitari learning too much about things that weren't his business.

"I saw him when he was on the pre-regulars," Oshitari said. "He was a lot more powerful. I don't know what happened. The first few days he was on the regulars, I thought he was just nervous, but he hasn't calmed down."

Shishido felt a pang of guilt. He remembered their game, and how he had shouted at Otori, told him that he wouldn't last. What if he had undermined Otori's confidence by saying those things?

Otori had never talked about tennis with Shishido, or mentioned his troubles. What if Otori had been struggling all this time, sure that he wasn't good enough, sure that he would fail? Shishido had been so focused on his own failings that he hadn't understood the uncertainty that Otori must be suffering.

That was Otori's problem. It wasn't weakness, or carelessness, or even nerves. He was doubting himself, doubting his own worth and abilities.

Shishido found that his chest was hurting.

"I don't know," Oshitari said, rubbing his forehead. "He's a good kid, he certainly has some talent, but maybe he just wasn't suited to make it as regular."

Shishido wheeled on him, his fists clenched.

"Shut up!" he snarled. "He'll make it." If he was to believe in himself—or in anything—he had to believe that Otori would make it.

A tap on his shoulder. "Um, Shishido-san? We're changing courts…Is everything all right?"

Shishido glanced up at Otori.

"Choutarou…" he said. "Don't hold back any more. You're good enough."

Apprehension flickered across Otori's face.

"Shishido-san?"

"You don't have to be worried," Shishido said. "Nobody's watching this game, it's just for fun." He wondered when the last time was that he had played a tennis game just for fun.

He realized that in his vehemence he had grabbed Otori's wrist. The taller boy did not pull away, but stood there, his lips twisting as if he was trying to hold something back.

" Don't let anyone tell you you're not good enough, Choutarou! You're better than them—than Taki, Mukahi, whoever. Just tell them to go to hell. Me too—you beat me, didn't you? So you don't have to listen to a damn word I say!"

Otori made a soft noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"But you're lecturing me right now, Shishido-san," he pointed out.

Shishido flushed, and shoved at his shoulder.

"Shut up and go serve," he said in a gruff tone.

Otori nodded.

"Thank you," Shishido heard him say very quietly.

As Otori was about to serve, Shishido thought he saw him smile.

"Here I go," he called.

Shishido was almost glad to feel a familiar pain in his wrist, and the racket fly out of his hands. As Otori hit three more consecutive aces, he was a little less glad. But for some reason, his mouth was twisting in an idiotic grin.

"That's the way, Otori-kun," Mukahi cheered, clapping him on the back.

From then on, Mukahi and Otori put up more of a fight. It wasn't an instant transformation, and Otori's weak spots certainly didn't vanish, but he hesitated less. He returned more of the balls that he should have been able to return, with his long reach, and his shots had more strength behind them.

Oshitari was smirking, in that infuriatingly superior way of his.

"Shishido-kun, do you always encourage your opponents like that? It doesn't seem to be a very productive strategy."

Shishido glared at him.

"We'll win," he said. "Unless you're giving up already."

"Of course not."

It was a close game, but in the end, they did win, six games to four. Shishido assumed that Oshitari, who was far too clever for his good, knew Mukahi's play well enough to give them the advantage, despite the significant improvement in Otori's play.

"Not bad game, for a couple of makeshift doubles teams," Oshitari said, as they gathered round. Shishido rubbed at his sweaty face with a towel.

"I'll beat you next time for sure, Yuushi," Mukahi panted.

"Isn't there anything else you can say?" Shishido asked, annoyed. After all, _he_ had also defeated Mukahi.

"I'll beat you too!"

"Say," Oshitari cut in. "It's not too late yet. Would you like to come over to my house for a while?"

"Oh," Otori said, clasping his hands. "Um…"

"Come on," Mukahi said to him. "Yuushi's going to make me watch some awful romance movie, but if you come over, maybe I can get out of it."

Otori smiled.

"In that case, thank you very much, Oshitari-senpai, Mukahi-senpai."

"How about you, Shishido-kun?" Oshitari asked.

Shishido ran a hand through his hair. Playing a game of tennis was one thing. The idea of going to Oshitari's house seemed weird, like they were a group of friends, or something like that.

"Well…" he said. "I kind of…"

"Please come, Shishido-san," Otori said, his eyes wide and earnest.

He couldn't leave Otori alone with Oshitari and Mukahi, of course. He would just have to follow along, this time.

"Fine," he said. Mukahi shot him a glare.

"Now that it's settled, let's go," Oshitari said. "It's not too far from here."

They shouldered their tennis bags, and set off.

"It's not going to work, is it?" Shishido said to Oshitari, as Mukahi pulled Otori ahead, chattering. Oshitari sighed.

"Mukahi-Otori pair? It wasn't a disaster, but they aren't particularly suited to each other. Otori is proving difficult to match with a partner. It was an interesting experiment, though…" He trailed off, thinking. "You weren't bad yourself, Shishido-kun. I might go so far as to say you show a certain aptitude for doubles."

"Me?" Shishido said. "Doubles? Don't be ridiculous."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was pretty fun to write. Shishido can be a bit dense, can't he?  
Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please review!  
**


	8. Hesitation

**A/N: So...I'm alive, and this story is also alive. I'm sorry for the long wait, but I'm going through a very busy period in my life right now, which should be done in about a month or so, hopefully. Let's hope I can update sooner than that. I appreciate everyone's patience!  
**

**Please enjoy chapter 8!**

**Disclaimer: PoT does not belong to me.**

* * *

Shishido, Oshitari, Mukahi, and Otori sprawled on Oshitari's bedroom floor, playing a racing game on Oshitari's new Wii. Shishido had never cared much for video games, and Oshitari himself did not seem terribly interested. Shishido wondered if he had bought the console purely for Mukahi's amusement—the acrobat was absorbed in the game, and after a dozen rounds he showed no signs of boredom. 

Surprisingly, Otori also seemed to be enjoying himself. Although he had said that he didn't know much about video games and hadn't played often, his eyes were shining with a childlike glee. He took losing the most calmly out of all of them.

It was an oddly peaceful situation, sitting there, doing something as pointless as a video game, and talking a little of unimportant things. At that moment, they were not a group of rivals, or even comrades-in-arms, but just boys enjoying the afternoon. It was almost as if they were friends, who took pleasure in each other's company.

It was an illusion, of course. Hyoutei students did not have friends, they had acquaintances and connections.

Perhaps Oshitari and Mukahi might be friends—they were certainly often together—but Oshitari had always been a little eccentric. Besides, they were a doubles team.

Shishido wondered if on other teams, like Seigaku and Fudoumine, the regulars were friends. Did they get together outside of school and play games, or hang out?

He hesitated for a moment, but could see no harm in it, so he voiced the thought.

"They might, but those teams are pretty weak, you know," Oshitari commented. "Seigaku hasn't gotten very far in years."

"Their captain is supposed to be strong," Mukahi said. "And besides, they have the 'Golden Pair'."

"Gakuto, stop harping on that. I know you want to play them, and I'm sure we'll get to during the Kantou tournament, as long as we win our upcoming match."

"We'll win!" Mukahi retorted.

Otori laughed nervously.

Shishido realized, with a sudden pang, that all three of them would be playing in the consolation match the next week, and that he would not. His sense of peace and companionship evaporated.

Whether Hyoutei's regulars were friends or not could hardly matter to him. He was not a regular.

"I wonder, though," Oshitari said, a minute later. "What is it that Hyoutei is missing?"

"What do you mean, Oshitari-senpai?"

"We've always been as strong team, especially since Atobe became our leader, but we lose to Rikkai Dai every single year. I think we often make it to the Nationals, but only as second or third place in Kantou."

"Maybe Rikkai Dai is stronger?" Otori suggested.

"Come on, Otori-kun," Mukahi said. "Have a little faith. I don't think we're any worse than those jerks."

"It's not talent, for sure," Oshitari mused. "We have over two hundred members, and a lot of gifted players among them."

Shishido wondered if it would be bitter to say: _We can't win, because our system is rotten to the core._

He couldn't say why, but he knew it was true. He believed that he had always felt it. It was as if he had been running and running with all his might, and only just now noticed that he had been on a treadmill the entire time.

* * *

After another round of racing, Oshitari drew Shishido aside. 

"I hope you don't mind if I make an observation about your playing," he said, as they watched Otori and Mukahi competing fiercely.

"Sure, if you like." He didn't see the point, but Oshitari's opinions were often useful and always interesting.

"You've improved over the last several weeks. Your speed was always your greatest ability, and I can tell that you have been training. You're stronger, your endurance is better."

Shishido nodded. No need to thank him—it wasn't a compliment; it was a statement of fact.

"You'll need to depend on that speed. You don't have strength, or height, or even a deceitful mind." Oshitari smirked, and Shishido knew he was placing himself into the last category.

"But I think your reflexes are too slow. You can return most shots quickly, and pick up a large number of them because of your fast movements. However, you don't react quickly enough to your opponents to really gain an edge from your abilities."

Shishido nodded. It made sense. Possibly, this was not the first time such a thought had crossed his mind.

"So…" he said. "If I just find a way to improve my reaction time, I'll do a lot better?"

"I think so. Unfortunately, I have to admit that I don't know of any method that would improve your reflexes much— you've had solid training, and they're already quite decent."

"It doesn't really matter, anyway." Shishido said. "I'm just an ordinary member of the club, I'm not playing competitively at all."

He wondered if he sounded bitter. He didn't particularly feel that way, just strangely empty, a sensation that was very familiar to him these days. He felt it whenever he remembered his game with Tachibana, or his game with Otori. But this afternoon's game seemed different, because he had not been thinking about his own success, but on helping Otori regain his confidence.

"Ah," Oshitari said at last, very quietly.

They fell silent, and watched the other two boys, whose eyes were fixed on the television screen, engrossed in the game. Although only his hands were required, Mukahi flung his whole body into the race, one moment on his knees, another leaning to the side, and then sagging in frustration. A wide range of emotions, from elation to fury, flashed across his face.

In contrast, Otori remained quite still. He leaned back against the wall, with his arms stretched out before him. Only his wrists and fingers moved. His expression, also, was calm, but Shishido thought he could detect a small smile on his face, which broadened when he executed a particularly daring turn with his car. And when he finally beat Mukahi (it took several rounds), his lips parted and he gave a soft laugh.

Shishido was startled from his observations by Oshitari, who had noted the direction of his gaze.

"You continue to insist that Otori-kun is not your friend?"

"Yes!" Shishido winced at the vehemence in his own voice. "He's not."

"Then I must wonder what your purpose for him is. If he loses his first match, if he is forced off the regulars, will you be pleased or disappointed?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Oshitari stared into his eyes, unblinking behind the glasses.

"Do you pour your broken hopes into him, using him as a substitute for your own life? Don't you want him to succeed, as if it will redeem you for your defeat?" Oshitari was not accusing, merely curious.

Shishido bit his lip, wishing that Oshitari was less sharp, less prying. It sounded selfish and pathetic, but he could not deny that he had been far too interested in Otori's success. Why should he care about that? Maybe, as Oshitari suggested, he was living through Otori, because his own life held so little interest for him. He saw no path forward—he was glad he hadn't quit the team, he loved tennis, but it was just a hobby for him now. Maybe in high school, he could play competitively again, but only if he left Hyoutei.

He still wanted it, he realized. Maybe he wanted to push Otori along this path because, even if he recognized the Hyotei way was rotten, his old yearnings had not gone away.

Not everything that had happened to him since his defeat was bad. There had been pleasant things, some happy moments. Not a few of them concerned Choutarou. He didn't regret any of that.

But no matter what he found to occupy his days, wounds did not heal so quickly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand you," Oshitari admitted.

Suddenly, his smile seemed pitying.

_You are broken, aren't you, Shishido? _

* * *

**A/N: This would have come sooner, but was being a pain and not letting me upload.**

**I hope you liked it! I know it's a bit angsty, but important development is going on (as you can probably tell). At this point, there are actually several "threads" running through the story, and a new one was introduced in this chapter. Don't worry about identifying them, it's just the way I think about the structure. Just read and enjoy :) **

**Please review!  
**


	9. Friend

**A/N: Look, another update already! After I finished the last chapter, this one just kept coming. I guess I could just leave things hanging. This is hopefully a little less angsty than the last one. I hope that you all enjoy it!**

**Many, many thanks to all my fabulous reviewers. I love you all 3 Special thanks to Collapse Overture, who gave me my 50th review (!!!!!) **

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine.**

* * *

Shishido wondered if he should stay away from Otori. Was Oshitari's suggestion true—was he really just using Otori because of his own unhappiness? He felt as if there was a foul smell in the room, and he had suddenly realized that he was the source. If he had suspected anyone else of using Otori, manipulating him for selfish reasons, he would…well, he didn't know what he would do to them, but he would certainly be furious. But, himself? Perhaps it would be for the best if he stayed away. 

That particular dilemma was solved when Otori approached him and confessed that while he had told Shishido that he was having trouble in math class in order to distract him from the true problem, his disastrous partnership with Taki, he really was doing badly in math class.

"Do you think you could help me during lunch, Shishido-san?" Otori asked. "I…I don't want to trouble you, but you said before that you might be able to…"

Shishido realized that helping Otori with his math homework was harmless. In fact, as long as he didn't bother Otori about tennis, he might be able to make up for any of his own selfishness that had affected his behavior. And besides, Otori was blushing, as he often did when he was embarrassed. There was no way Shishido could turn him down. It would be cruel.

"Sure," he said. "Bring your assignments, and we can go over them. I'm not doing too well at geometry this year, but I always did pretty well at algebra. I've heard that usually you're good at one or the other. Maybe you're more of a geometry type."

"Maybe," Otori said doubtfully.

"Anyway, aren't math and music supposed to go together?"

Otori shrugged.

Shishido laughed.

"I guess you're just special, then."

* * *

It was Oshitari he avoided—not an easy thing, since they were in the same class, and even sat next to each other. 

He didn't want Oshitari to know how much their conversation had disturbed him. He just wanted to make sure Oshitari didn't have any opportunities to rub salt in the wound. It would be insufferable if he continued to pry, to suggest, to try (for some reason) to understand Shishido's feelings when Shishido himself didn't understand them at all.

He imagined Oshitari's eyes, lurking behind those glasses, drilling holes into his neck. He wanted to turn his head and see if Oshitari was really staring at him, but that would risk making eye contact.

He could still hear Oshitari's words:

_Do you pour your broken hopes into him, using him as a substitute for your own life? Don't you want him to succeed, as if it will redeem you for your defeat?_

He was pathetic, if it was true. Whether Otori succeeded or failed, it would do nothing to change what had happened to Shishido. If Otori stayed on the team, Shishido would be off of it. If Otori won his game, Shishido would still be defeated. He couldn't cling to something so stupid.

And if Otori lost, what would Shishido do then? Would he be angry? Disappointed?

He would be disappointed, but only because Otori would be disappointed.

What was his purpose for Otori? He didn't understand.

Oshitari passed him a note as class ended.

_Will you be at practice? _it said.

Oshitari was goading him, asking if he really didn't care about tennis anymore.

He crumpled it into a ball, and grabbed his sports bag.

* * *

It was Mukahi who caught him before practice, outside of the clubhouse.

"Something bothering you?" he asked, with an irritating smirk. Shishido wondered if he spent so much time hanging around Oshitari that the expression had infected his.

"What do you want?" Shishido growled.

"You're being all brooding again," Mukahi said, unfazed. "And avoiding Yuushi. Otori-kun too, probably. It doesn't suit you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I look stupid?" Mukahi demanded.

Shishido grinned.

The redhead threw a fake punch at him, and Shishido caught his fist. He found the familiarity rather comforting. Mukahi could get under his skin, he realized, but he wasn't a bad sort of guy, even if he could be annoying.

"Yuushi gets too caught up in analyzing people sometimes." Mukahi said. "He doesn't know when to shut up. I don't blame you for thinking he's a manipulative bastard, but he wasn't trying to mess up your life, I swear." He looked up directly into Shishido's eyes as he spoke, his face unusually serious.

Shishido had never seen him so earnest before, even in the middle of a match, but the expression was somehow familiar.

It was an expression Choutarou often wore.

Shishido looked away.

"You and Oshitari-kun are really friends, aren't you?"

Mukahi tilted his head in thought.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess so. Maybe it's weird, but I think we are." He bounced lightly on the soles of his feet—a habitual gesture—and smiled. "It's not a big deal, or something you just decide. But at a certain point, you realize that you like spending time with somebody, and you can talk them about more than stupid stuff, and you feel better when they're around."

Shishido nodded. It kind of made sense, he decided.

"Hey," he called after Mukahi. "Thanks."

"Sure."

* * *

Shishido leaned over Otori's shoulder to look at the old math test covered with red ink. Otori frowned. His forehead crinkled in thought as he bit the end of his pencil and stared at the page. 

"It's not a very big mistake," Shishido said, pointing at the first problem. "You just forgot to flip the inequality sign here, when you divided."

"Oh," Otori said, twirling the pencil between his fingers. "I guess that's kind of stupid."

"It's not stupid," Shishido said. Otori looked so downcast that Shishido almost reached out to pat him on the shoulder. He repressed the impulse. "I do it all the time. Well, I guess I'm pretty stupid.

"Of course you aren't, Shishido-san," Otori protested, but a hint of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

They continued to go through the test. Shishido noticed that many of Otori's errors were careless ones, small slips in calculation. Otori had obviously been distracted.

Shishido stared at him as he wrote—beneath his large brown eyes, there were dark circles, and his face seemed pale.

"You're worrying a lot, aren't you?"

Otori looked up at him and nodded, biting his lip.

"The match with St. Rudolph is next week, and…" He looked away.

"You shouldn't let affect your schoolwork," Shishido said, and immediately felt like an idiot, because, of course, tennis had always been far more important to him than school. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll do fine in the match, though."

"You saw how I'm playing."

"I've seen you play. I know how good you are. Choutarou, no one can remotely stand up to that serve of yours."

"If it goes in."

Shishido sighed. When he had been on the regulars, he hadn't worried so much about an upcoming game about a stupid little team.

And look where that had gotten him.

Arrogance had been his downfall—a combination of his own arrogance and Atobe's. Otori didn't possess an ounce of arrogance, but it made Shishido's chest ache to see him looking so depressed.

"You do want this, don't you?" The words stung his lips, but he forced them out. "To be on the regulars?"

Otori didn't say anything.

"If you'd be happier playing piano, if this isn't what you want, you don't need to torture yourself."

"Shishido-san…"

"I won't think any less of you, Choutarou. It's not right for you to be unhappy like this."

It was true, Shishido realized. He hadn't wanted Otori to end up like him, off the team, because he didn't want Otori to suffer his unhappiness. But if being _on_ the team was going to cause Otori so much misery, if Otori was only being forced into it, Shishido didn't want that either.

"I do want to be a regular, Shishido-san. Sometimes I'm afraid to want it as much as I do. I never thought I would be one, and now that I am––" Suddenly, he broke off. "I wish you were still in the regulars.

Shishido shrugged, to hide his discomfort.

"I guess there's nothing I can do about that."

"If you were, I wouldn't be…"

He lowered his forehead to rest against the table, until his face was almost beneath the tangle of silver hair. Shishido could barely make out his next words.

" Shishido-san, I _am_unhappy."

Shishido sank down next to him, and this time, he put a hand on his shoulder.

"Me too, Choutarou. I guess there's no easy way out for either of us."

It hurt to admit it, but it was also a relief, to confess that he was unhappy. Here, he didn't have to pretend indifference, or force bravery. Otori would not think that he was a coward.

They sat there for what seemed like an eternity, brooding on their separate troubles. Finally, Choutarou spoke again, so softly that Shishido afterwards wondered if he had imagined it.

"Thank you for being my friend, Shishido-san."

It was only a word after all—not something to fear.

* * *

**A/N:A few things resolved in this chapter, anyway. I thought it was kind of sweet, even if things are not magically and miraculously all better. Well, if they were, there'd be no story ) **

**I hope you liked it. Please review! **


	10. Hurdles

**A/N: Here's another update for you all. It's getting kind of late, and I'm tired, so this won't be much of an authors note. Oh well--that isn't what you all want to read, I assume.**

**This chapter gave me a lot of trouble (although there are a few bits I like), so hopefully it won't be a disappointment. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own PoT. **

* * *

The official line-up for the consolation match against St. Rudolph had been posted in the clubhouse. 

_Doubles 2: Taki-Otori_

_Doubles 1: Mukahi-Oshitari_

_Singles 3: Kabaji_

_Singles 2: Akutagawa_

_Singles 1: Atobe_

An all-regular line-up, then. Atobe was obviously not allowing for any mistakes this time, which seemed reasonable enough, since Hyoutei needed to win this match in order to participate in the Kantou Tournament. St. Rudolph shouldn't be an especially formidable school—they had already lost to Seigaku, after all. However, Fudoumine was supposed to be a nothing school as well, and Atobe wasn't about to underestimate another team.

So even if Otori and Taki lost, Hyoutei wouldn't suffer for it. Good, that should take some of the pressure off Otori—although, if he lost, he would probably still be off the regulars. Well, even then, his position wouldn't be as bad as Shishido's.

* * *

It was a remarkably sunny and beautiful summer day. Instead of eating at their usual table at the back of the library, Shishido and Otori had decided to have lunch outside. The hill behind the regulars' courts was pleasant and secluded, and Shishido decided that the weather was fine enough that he could stand to watch any regulars who might be using the lunch break to practice. He sank back into the grass with a contented sigh. On a day like this, everything seemed perfect. 

"You're getting grass in your hair, Shishido-san," Otori said. "And staining your shirt, I think."

"Don't worry about it," Shishido mumbled, closing his eyes to bask in the sun.

"There might be bugs!" Otori's worried face appeared above him, upside down.

"Oh, are you scared of bugs, Choutarou?"

"Of course not," Otori said, in a voice slightly louder than usual.

"Look, a caterpillar!" Shishido pointed to a spot near Otori's foot. Otori shrank back, and Shishido rolled in the grass laughing.

"Shishido-san!"

"I guess we'll have to bring a blanket or something next time."

"Oh, just like a real picnic." Otori smiled at the thought.

"Yes. We can have cheese sandwiches and watermelon."

"Why cheese sandwiches?"

"Why not?"

Shishido glanced over at the tennis courts, where Atobe was playing a game against Oshitari. He nudged Otori's elbow.

"The great Atobe actually trains? You wouldn't think he would lower himself to get sweaty on a regular basis. Does he play against Oshitari often?"

"Pretty often," Otori said. "He usually trains with Jirou-senpai or Taki-senpai for a lighter warm up, Kabaji-kun if he wants to work on a skill, and Oshitari if he wants a real game."

Although, now that he thought about it, Shishido realized that Atobe must train relatively hard. Even with a generous amount of natural talent, Hyoutei's captain wouldn't be the player he was without being in peak physical condition. He probably trained just as hard as Shishido.

"He doesn't play against you?"

Otori laughed.

"Never. Taki-senpai and I spend most of our time playing the pre-regular doubles pair, or Oshitari-senpai and Mukahi-senpai."

"Well, I was in the 'light warm up' category, which doesn't seem all that much more flattering."

Shishido was surprised at how much easier it was becoming to talk about his experiences on the regulars, and tennis in general. For most of the time he had known Otori, they had avoided the subject, but that had not brought them much in the way of comfort.

Down on the court, Atobe executed a smash, which Oshitari returned with a neat Higuma Otoshi.

Oshitari had been wondering why other teams won, why Hyoutei didn't do better in the tournaments. Shishido couldn't imagine that there were many players who were more talented than Atobe and Oshitari—both of them were naturals, geniuses. If those two weren't good enough, what could the rest hope for?

"Will we ever play like that?" Otori asked, voicing the thought that had been in Shishido's mind.

Shishido shrugged.

"Probably not." Although they both wanted it.

Otori flopped down on the grass next to Shishido.

"Aren't you worried about the dirt and grass stains?"

"I can see the clouds better from here."

* * *

They were both nearly asleep when footsteps crunched in the grass behind them. 

"Otori-kun!" a sharp voice exclaimed.

Otori shot to a sitting position. Shishido pulled himself up and yawned, blinking in the sunlight.

"Taki-senpai," Otori faltered. The regular was standing there, his mouth stretched in an expression of irritation. He had a wild look in his eyes, one Shishido had seen enough times before to recognize it—panic.

"What are you _doing _out here?" Taki demanded. Otori looked down at the ground.

"It's lunch period. What do you think we were doing, eating breakfast?" Shishido said, inwardly cringing at the lame retort. Well, he had to say something if Taki was going to talk to Otori like he was his boss.

"You might have the leisure time for such activities, Shishido," Taki said, "But Otori-kun and I have a game in three days. We can't be lounging around like this when we could be using the time to practice? If we don't use every spare moment…"

"I know," Otori said, his voice dull. "Sorry, senpai."

Taki's frown relaxed.

"You don't need to apologize," he said. "I know it's hard, your first game as a regular, and you didn't even play any formal games as a pre-regular. But if we lose this game, _I'll _also be in trouble."

Otori nodded.

Taki shot Shishido a look.

"If he hadn't lost the Fudoumine game, we wouldn't be in this position. So come on, Otori. Let's get down to the courts. Hanging around with an ex-regular is not going to improve your tennis" He turned, and walked away.

Otori clenched his fists.

"It's true enough," Shishido said. "The part about me losing, anyway."

"Taki-senpai wouldn't have beat Tachibana," Otori hissed. "I know he wouldn't."

He looked so uncharacteristically fierce that Shishido almost laughed. He was rather touched that it was on his account.

Shishido put a hand on his wrist. "Hey, Choutarou, you don't need to get mad for me. I know I'm in disgrace. Just win the game, ok?"

Otori nodded.

"I'll do my best."

"Come over after school, if you like," Shishido offered. "When we're done with practice."

The smile returned to Otori's face.

"Really? I'd love to!"

"_Otori!"_

Taki, almost at the courts, had turned back and was beckoning impatiently.

"See you later, Shishido-san."

* * *

A stream of curses rang over the courts, and a good number of tennis club members—Shishido among them—hurried over to see what was the matter. Oshitari was bending over Mukahi, who sat on the ground clutching his ankle. A distraught Otori hovered nearby. 

"I'm so sorry, Mukahi-senpai!" he was saying, over and over again.

"It's fine, Otori-kun," Oshitari said, rubbing his eyes. "These things happen. It's not your fault."

"But…"

"What exactly is going on here?" Atobe's voice silenced the crowd.

Both Otori and Mukahi glanced away, looking ashamed.

Oshitari sighed.

"Gakuto landed badly trying to return Otori-kun's serve, and twisted his ankle."

"Can he walk?"

"Do you think I'd be sitting here if I could?" Mukahi snapped.

"Kabaji, take Mukahi to the infirmary."

"Usu."

Kabaji scooped up Mukahi, against the acrobat's vehement protests, and slung him over one powerful shoulder.

"I'll go as well," Oshitari said.

Atobe nodded, and snapped his fingers.

"The rest of you, back to your courts at once."

* * *

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Choutarou," Shishido said. "It was just bad luck. It's not like you hit him in the head, or something. Although, I wouldn't blame you if you had—it's an understandable temptation" 

Otori shook his head.

"But what if he's badly hurt?" he said, his voice low and serious. "The game is so soon, and…oh, there they are."

Oshitari and Kabaji had returned to the courts. Mukahi wasn't with them, though. Again, a crowd gathered around, anxious to hear the news.

"Is Mukahi-senpai all right?" Otori asked.

Oshitari grimaced.

"It's just a twisted ankle, not even a sprain really, but the doctor said he should stay off of it for two or three days to make sure it doesn't get worse."

Otori had grown very pale.

"Don't worry, Otori-kun," Oshitari said. "He's in a pretty foul mood, but it's not a serious injury."

"But the match…" Otori said faintly.

"I imagine Atobe will have to change the line-up."

* * *

_Doubles 2: Chikabayashi-Ogawa_

_Doubles 1: Taki-Otori_

_Singles 3: Akutagawa_

_Singles 2: Atobe_

_Singles 1: Oshitari_

Shishido scowled at the new list. A pre-regulars doubles pair—one that had lost in the Fudoumine match—was now in Doubles 2. Taki and Otori had been shifted to Doubles 1. But why on earth was Atobe in Singles 2?

There was still no way Hyoutei would lose to St. Rudolph, but the situation had grown considerably more complicated for Taki and Otori. If the Chikabayashi-Ogawa pair lost, there would be that much more pressure on them.

Shishido had a reasonable amount of confidence in their tennis abilities, but he had seen how nervous Taki was already, and how badly that was affecting Otori.

He clenched his fists. He hadn't realized before exactly how frustrating it was to be watching from the sidelines, unable to do a thing to help.

If only he was Otori's doubles partner instead. That would make the situation much easier.

He brushed the thought away as it occurred to him. There was no point in dwelling on such idle notions.

* * *

**A/N: Taki is driving me a bit crazy. I don't want to make him two dimensional, or too unpleasant. I'm trying to give him reasonable motivations, and I think that's working. But he appears about two times in the series, so my idea of his personality is very inferred. **

**The game against St. Rudolph is almost here––just another chapter or two. **

**As usual, reviews will be greeted with much love! 3  
**


	11. Calm

**A/N: At last, an update! This took longer than I expected to write, but at least it wasn't a two month wait this time. And I am relatively pleased with how some parts of it turned out.  
**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not mine. **

* * *

After practice, Otori insisted on going to visit Mukahi and apologize. Shishido offered to accompany him, not because he thought it was necessary, but because he wanted to hear Oshitari's opinion on the new line-up. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear that Otori had something similar in mind, although he was sure the apology was sincere.

"Should I bring something for Mukahi-senpai?" Otori asked, as they walked past a shopping center. "Should I get flowers?"

Shishido snorted at the image of Otori bringing Mukahi flowers.

"Get pink ones, they'll match his hair just great."

"Okay, it wasn't the best idea…"

"How about food?" Shishido suggested, pointing to a grocery store. "Everyone likes food."

In the end, they chose a very large box of Pocky, containing six different varieties. If it was too much for Mukahi to eat by himself, they would be happy to help.

It was only a short bus ride from school to Mukahi's neighborhood, but Shishido thought to call Oshitari (he didn't keep Mukahi's cell phone number) to make sure they were going to the right place.

"_Hello? Oh, Shishido! Yes, Gakuto's here at my house. You and Otori-kun are coming over? Want me to send the car?"_

"Who are you, Atobe?" Shishido retorted. "We're on the bus. We'll be there in just a minute."

"They're at Oshitari-senpai's house?" Otori asked.

"Yeah, it's a good thing I checked. I think he must live there, or something."

* * *

Otori bowed politely, and offered Mukahi the Pocky.

"Thanks!" Mukahi said from his perch on Oshitari's bed. "Oh look, it has strawberry _and _almond. Excellent!" He peered at Otori from behind the box. "Hey, why're you being so formal all of a sudden?"

"He feels bad that you tripped, idiot," Shishido said. "Even though it was completely your fault."

"It wasn't!"

"What do you mean, it wasn't?"

"Come on, now," Oshitari drawled, opening the box of Pocky. "Accidents happen. It wasn't anybody's fault. Especially yours, Otori-kun."

Otori smiled in gratitude, and took a seat.

"Yuushi, you're just satisfied because you're in Singles 1 for the consolation match," Mukahi said.

"I know you're disappointed that you're not playing, but do you honestly think that we're going to get to Singles 1?"

"Against St. Rudolph?" Shishido said. "Of course not! We'd have to…" he trailed off, realizing what he was about to say.

"Lose both the doubles matches?" Otori said in a small voice. There was an awkward pause. Shishido ran his fingers through his hair, which was coming loose from its ponytail.

"Well, yes," Oshitari said, after a moment. He pulled off his glasses, and polished them against his shirt. "But I don't think it's likely. Although, St. Rudolph apparently puts their best players first, and they have some strong doubles combinations. In that last match against Seigaku, I think the Golden Pair lost to them. Oh, honestly," he said to Mukahi, who had hissed at the mention of the Golden Pair.

"Is that why Atobe is in Singles 2?" Shishido ventured. He glanced over at Otori, and wished that he had stayed silent—Otori was looking extremely pale by now.

"Maybe," Oshitari said. "Who knows what Atobe is thinking? You would have to ask him." He looked away.

Shishido had never held himself to be a great judge of character, but he felt that Oshitari was lying. Oshitari did know, or at least had some ideas—if anyone on the team understood Atobe, it was Oshitari.

It seemed odd to him that Atobe would lower himself from playing Singles 1 as a defensive move against a team that there was no way Hyoutei was going to lose to—a team on which there could not possibly be a player that_Oshitari_ would lose to. It made no sense. It wasn't an effective tactical move.

But, Shishido thought, stealing another glance at Otori, it seemed to be a perfectly effective mind game.

The possibility made him furious—was Atobe playing with the line-up in order to increase the pressure on Otori? And if he was, why?

Shishido wanted to say something, to reassure Otori that the match would go well, that everything would be fine.

The memory came flooding back, of terror, paralysis, a devastating emptiness. He closed his mouth.

The conversation had gone on while his mind had been wandering.

"Don't worry about there being a lot of people. It's like a performance, right?" Oshitari was telling Otori. "You've done lots of those, haven't you? Do you have anything that helps you when you're on stage for a piano recital?"

Otori nodded.

"My piano teacher told me to imagine myself in a place where I feel calm," he said.

"So where do you think of?" Shishido asked.

"There's an old church near my house where I always go when I want to think about something," Otori said.

"A church?" Mukahi's voice was surprised. "Are you Christian?"

"No, it's just peaceful there." Otori sounded more relaxed, Shishido noted with approval. He wished that he had been able to help, but he didn't know how, when he felt so far from calm himself.

* * *

Shishido watched another disastrous practice end early, when Taki stormed out. Otori fled—Shishido didn't attempt to follow, but stared hard at Atobe's completely inscrutable face.

He hadn't spoken to Atobe since the day after his fall from the regulars, when Atobe had given him permission to remain in the club, as long as he didn't make trouble. Since then, Hyoutei's captain had ignored his existence, which wasn't as much of an actual insult—Atobe ignored most people—as a reminder that Shishido was now a complete nobody in the club.

He had blamed Atobe for putting him in a bad position, for underestimating Tachibana and Fudoumine. It was dishonorable to try to shift blame for defeat, he reminded himself. He was the one who had played the game, and he was the one who had lost. Besides, it was an old wound now, wasn't it?

But he wanted Otori to succeed where he had failed. He did not want to watch Atobe play some stupid, arrogant game with another new regular. Not with Otori.

He heard two pairs of footsteps exit the clubhouse—one heavy, one light. Atobe, and Kabaji, of course.

"Were you waiting for me, Shishido?"

He was almost surprised to hear Atobe utter his name.

"Atobe-buchou," he said, keeping his voice level. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" Atobe raised an eyebrow.

"The match line-up. Putting the pre-regulars in Doubles 2, yourself in Singles 2. Why did you do it that way?"

"The line-up is my decision, and none of your business."

"Did you arrange it to make Otori feel more nervous? To make him think you thought he and Taki would lose?"

Atobe laughed.

"I forgot that you were Otori's bodyguard, now. Do you have so little faith in him, then, Shishido? Are you afraid he'll prove himself unworthy, like you did?"

"He'll win!" Shishido's voice shook, now.

"One would certainly hope so. Two immediate failures for two newly appointed regulars might start to cast some doubt on Hyoutei's pool of talent."

Shishido started to turn away in disgust. This was useless. He wasn't going to get Atobe to admit to anything.

"How about a bet, then, Shishido?" Atobe suggested. "If Otori wins his match…I'll put you back with the pre-regulars."

Shishido clenched his fists. It was a tempting offer—if Otori won, which he would, he _had to_, this would mean no more clean-up duty, no more boring drills.

"I refuse," he said. "Otori plays for himself, and for Hyoutei. Not for me."

Atobe's expression became the slightest bit less chilly. He eyed Shishido with interest for the first time.

"Play for yourself, then. I will grant you the honor of playing a match with me, Hyoutei's leader, at a time of my choosing. Generous, na Kabaji?"

"Usu."

* * *

Shishido passed through the shopping center again on his way home. It was such a fine day that the market was filled with people, and shopkeepers were bringing their wares outside to compete for attention. Feeling in no great he gazed in polished windows of stores, and at stalls of gaudy items. Maybe he'd find a new CD, or book, or something else to take his mind off things.

"In need of a gift, perhaps, sir?" an old man called out to him. Shishido gave the display of jewelry an uninterested glance. He only ever really bought stuff like that for his mother, and her birthday wasn't for a long time now.

Among the sparkling flowers and glittering heart necklaces, he noticed a silver cross. He remembered Otori mentioning the church.

Shishido hadn't been able to say anything to help Otori feel better, but maybe he could give him something to look at that would make him calm.

The cross reminded him of Otori, too. It was simple in design, not extravagant or pretentious.

Shishido slipped it into Otori's bag the next day, without a note.

* * *

**A/N: And now you all know how that came about...**

**As I predicted, St. Rudolph will be _next_ chapter. I'll have to do some research to get them in character nfu **

**Thanks for reading. Reviews loved, as always! **


	12. Wound

**A/N: Here's a rather longish update for you all. Finally, the St. Rudolph match is here! I did rather a lot of research on the S.R characters for the amount that they are featured here...so I hope nobody will be disappointed (it's my first time writing any of them).**

**Please enjoy this (very important) chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not mine.**

* * *

Hordes of Hyoutei students gathered around the buses that would take them to the tennis courts for the Imatch with St. Rudolph. The sight brought a sour taste to Shishido's mouth. Even after a few weeks, he couldn't forget that at the last match, he had ridden in the bus with the regulars. Now, as an ordinary member of the club, Shishido was supposed to ride on the other buses, and be part of the cheering squad—large, anonymous, and very undistinguished.

Recently, he had gotten used to hanging out with Otori before and after practice, as well as during the school day. Otori still ate lunch with him, rather than with the other regulars. Sometimes, it was possible to forget the difference in their positions. Otori was the last person in the world to be arrogant about being a regular, even if—when—he won his first official game.

But often, especially in situations like these, it was painfully obvious that Shishido was a nobody, and that Otori mattered. Shishido truly did want Otori to be successful, but loitering near the regular's bus wondering if Otori would have a minute to talk to him before boarding made Shishido feel completely superfluous.

"You are going, aren't you, Shishido-san?" Otori asked, coming over to him. He seemed well rested, which was good—Shishido had glimpsed the dark circles under Taki's eyes, from a night of tossing and turning, no doubt.

He was also pleased to see that Otori was wearing the cross. He didn't mention it—it might seem suspicious—but it made him feel a little better.

"Of course I'm going," he said. He glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt he was wearing, which had probably prompted Otori's question. "I just wanted to jog over, rather than take the bus."

Otori smiled.

"That's a good idea," he said. "So you don't miss too much training."

Not that he needed to be training, Shishido thought, a bit of his previous irritation returning. Otori didn't mention, although he surely realized, that Shishido was out of uniform in order to escape cheering squad duties.

"Well, good luck, Choutarou," he said, clapping Otori on the shoulder. "I don't know if I'll see you before the game, but I'll be there." He wracked his brain for suitable advice. "Make sure you warm up enough. Play well."

_Win._

* * *

Shishido must have underestimated the distance to the match location, because he arrived over an hour before the first game was due to start. The tennis courts were almost deserted. He looked around to see if any Hyoutei players were there yet, and when he heard the sound of voices, he followed them.

The group of boys in white shirts with a horizontal brown stripe across the chest were so involved in their conversation that they didn't hear Shishido's footsteps. They seemed to be listening to a curly-haired boy who was not wearing tennis clothing, but a school uniform.

Ah. This must be St. Rudolph. Shishido ducked back behind a building to listen.

"Just because I wasn't able to obtain the data to plan a precise scenario for this match doesn't mean that our strategy won't work," the curly-haired one was saying. "We should try to win the first three matches."

"You got a copy of their line up, Mizuki?" asked a dark-skinned boy with long hair.

The curly-haired one—Mizuki—laughed, a half-chuckle with a high note in it that grated against Shishido's nerves. He held up a paper.

"Right here," he said, and chuckled again.

Shishido blinked. How exactly had this person gotten a copy of Hyoutei's line up? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"We're in luck," Mizuki said. "We thought that we would be up against an all-regular group, but I found out that they had to pull their most seasoned doubles combination, and replace it with a pre-regular pair. So Akazawa-buchou, Kaneda, I'm putting you in Doubles 2."

The dark-skinned one—was he the captain? Why wasn't he giving the instructions?—glanced over at a brown-haired player, who was grinning, and shrugged.

"Remember," Mizuki continued, "You two beat Seigaku's Golden Pair, who beat Fudoumine, who defeated this Hyoutei pair, so you ought to win. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes. Wait, what?"

"Never mind, Kaneda," the captain growled. "Let's go warm up." He grabbed his doubles partner by the wrist, and hauled him off.

"All right, then…" Mizuki said. "Yanagisawa, Atsushi, you'll be in Doubles 1 this time. Please, _please_ don't get hit by any balls this time."

"Yes, dane!" one of the players said. Shishido goggled at him for a moment—not only did he sound like a duck, his mop of hair and protruding lips made him look like one to.

Was it possible that he had found a team that was weirder than Hyoutei? Until today, he wouldn't have believed it possible.

"You'll be facing a pair of regulars, Taki and Otori. Taki I've seen before. Otori is new, probably a second year. They're a new pair, so make sure you destroy their combination. Now, for Singles 3, Yuuta. There aren't any left-handed players on this team, but I'm counting on you not to let me down again this time."

"It's not like I lost to spite you," snapped a boy with a cross shaped scar on his forehead.

"Don't worry Mizuki, dane," said the duck. "After all, he's Fuji Syuusuke's little bro—" The one with the scar lunged, grabbed him by the neck and throttled him before he could finish the sentence.

"Who's Fuji's brother, eh?"

At that point, Shishido left. His sanity wouldn't last much longer, spying on these people. Mukahi and Atobe had nothing on them.

* * *

"Game and match to St. Rudolph, six games to three," the referee called.

Shishido wasn't surprised when Chikabayashi and Ogawa lost their match, especially since St. Rudolph's pair had supposedly defeated the nationally ranked Golden Pair from Seigaku. Even he, who didn't know much about doubles, could tell that the St. Rudolph pair was impressive, particularly the younger player, who seemed to be directing their strategy.

Shishido glanced over at the St. Rudolph manager, Mizuki, who was practically rubbing his hands together with glee.

He felt a little sorry for the Hyoutei pre-regulars. This match had been a true second chance for them—one he, Shishido, would never receive—and they had lost for a second time. They would never make the regulars now.

He didn't have much time to spare for thoughts of Chikabayashi and Ogawa. Otori's match was beginning. As Otori followed Taki onto the court, he felt his own stomach knotting with nerves.

"Hyoutei's Taki-Otori pair against St. Rudolph's Yanagisawa-Kisarazu pair. Yanagisawa to serve!"

Their opponents were the duck, who was serving first, and a boy with a long red headband. By their easy movements and the smooth way they covered the court together, Shishido could tell that this was also a seasoned pair.

At first, Taki and Otori were more together than Shishido had seen them before, but as the St. Rudolph pair snatched points with cleverly aimed drop shots, their teamwork evaporated. The first game was gone in the blink of an eye, and Shishido began to worry in earnest.

They lost the second game as well, even though it was Taki's serve. The final point, when Taki and Otori's rackets actually collided, was particularly embarrassing to watch. The shouts from the enormous Hyoutei cheering squad had become quite subdued.

Shishido clenched his fists in frustration. Otori could do better than this. He knew that, and could see that he was trying. He was using his height well, and returning balls that would have been out of reach to a shorter player. It was going badly, but Otori hadn't lost control of himself, hadn't frozen yet. There was still hope.

"Game to St. Rudolph, three games to love. Hyoutei's Otori to serve!"

Shishido smiled. Here was the moment he had been waiting for. Hyoutei hadn't won a game yet, but Otori's Scud Serve could turn the momentum.

Otori closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then tossed the ball in the air and swung. Like a bullet, it shot to the other side of the court.

"Out!"

Shishido grimaced, his nails digging crescents into his palms. He could see Otori cringe, collapse into himself.

"Come on," Shishido muttered. "Get a hold of yourself."

Another attempt, one that hit the net this time. Shishido heard murmurs, laughter. Suddenly, the world swam before his eyes. His head felt heavy, as if he himself was on the court, falling. Why did this have to happen? Why did he have to _watch_ it happen?

"Come on, Choutarou!" he heard himself shout (or was it only in his imagination?)

Otori lowered his racket. Shishido saw his left hand come up to clasp the cross around his neck. He stood like that for a moment. Again, he served. His lips were moving, although Shishido couldn't hear the words.

There was incredulous silence, except for a startled "dane!" from Yanagisawa.

Then, cheers. An ace.

Yanagisawa and Kisarazu could only stand in shock as untouchable serve after serve blew by them. Taki, also, stood motionless and openmouthed, staring at Otori.

"Game to Hyoutei, one game to three! Change courts!"

Shishido let out a deep breath. Suddenly, he dared to hope.

As the walked to the other side of the court, Taki gave Otori a pat on the shoulder. Otori jumped, and then smiled at him.

When they lost the next game, Shishido felt his pulse speed up again, only to relax a little when Taki reclaimed the one after, bringing the score to two games for Hyoutei against St. Rudolph's four. He sighed. Watching matches from the sidelines was awful—all the tension of playing a match, without being able to do a thing about the outcome. Being publicly humiliated for a loss, he decided, was far better than watching someone else lose.

But Otori's service game was coming up again. A few serves went astray, but he managed to regain the momentum for Hyoutei—the St. Rudolph pair seemed to be succumbing to shock.

"Take that!" Shishido murmured, remembering well what it was like to know in your heart that you were already defeated, and watch the game spiral out of your control.

Otori and Taki won, seven games to five. Ecstatic shouts rang from the Hyoutei side of the courts. Shishido trembled. He should go find Otori, congratulate him.

But as he watched Taki, and a glowing Otori shake hands with their opponents and accept the victory, he did not feel the pride or happiness he had expected. Instead, there was pain, as if a wooden stake had been driven through his stomach.

He turned away from the joyful throng, to stare at the sky. Victory. He could never know it, but he yearned for it so badly it ached.

How he longed to be on the court at this moment, not to soothe wounded pride or fuel some unfounded arrogance, but to conquer himself! Only if he could stand there as victor, as Otori was doing at this moment, could he gather the crushed shards of his spirit.

To win. It was all he had ever wanted, his old dream, and he had let it go! Now, there would be no second chance. Not at Hyoutei.

But why should he wait for someone else to give him forgiveness?

_I will make my own chances. I will be a regular again!_

* * *

**A/N: Pretty significant developments, huh? I've been looking forward to writing that end bit for ages. **

**The St. Rudolph match will conclude in the next chapter, with Jirou vs. Yuuta. And, of course, Mizuki vs. Atobe. I'll give you three guesses about the outcome of those matches...  
**

**I'd love to say more here about my plans, but I think I'll just make everyone wait and see so that I don't spoil any of the fun :P**

**Please review! **


	13. Determination

**A/N: **I can't quite believe how long it has been since I updated this story. Sorry everyone! This is a little more of a transition chapter, since the last one was a major turning point. After arriving somewhere in Chapter 12 that I had been aiming for since the beginning, I struggled a lot with Chapter 13, and I'm not totally thrilled with it, so hopefully it will still be ok :) Alright, done with excuses, on to the story!

* * *

Otori seemed to have a new glow about him. His expression was lighter, if still serious, and his eyes sparkled. At first, when he approached after the game, Shishido felt so far removed from the experience of triumph that he could not speak. How, at this moment, could he say '_Choutarou, I'm going to be a regular again!'_? It didn't fit. He forced his own desires from his mind, keen as they were.

"Good job," he said, finding his voice at last.

"Thank you, Shishido-san," Otori said. His voice was calm, but the excitement behind it was audible. If he sensed any insincerity on Shishido's part, he did not show it.

"You carried the win," Shishido said, feeling a little more genuine. He was proud of Otori. Even the intensity of his own desires could not entirely erase that. "It was your serve that did it."

Otori blushed, and lifted a hand to the silver cross hanging around his neck.

"It was this," he said, a small smile playing about his lips. "It gave me strength, because someone wanted me to win. I imagined that someone thought I could win."

Shishido had to look away, feeling his own cheeks begin to redden.

"You played well," he said, trying to change the subject. "You're a true regular now."

Otori's smile faded.

"I don't know," he said. "A win is only a win. I could lose any time. Besides..." He trailed off, biting his lip. Shishido could guess what he had been going to say easily enough.

"You still have to play with Taki, probably."

Otori nodded.

Shishido patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry so much. Maybe he'll be the one to lose."

It made Shishido's mind turn once again to his own plans. To become a regular, he had to defeat a regular. He didn't just have to prove that he was as good as the regulars, as he had once believed. He had to win so completely that Coach Sakaki, and Atobe, and the rest of the team would not be able to question his worthiness.

But who could he defeat? He glanced over at the game that was occurring. Akutagawa Jirou was playing against one of the boys he had seen earlier, the short-haired one with a cross-shaped scar on his forehead. Akutagawa was already leading four games to one, although the game had only started a few minutes ago.

"Who's Akutagawa playing?" he asked Otori, unable to remember the boy's name.

"Oh…" Otori said, thinking. "I think his name was Fuji Yuuta. He's a second year. He's not doing too well against Jirou-senpai, is he?"

That was an understatement, if Shishido had ever heard one. Akutagawa didn't look at all awake—were his eyes even open? Even with a Rising Shot not unlike Shishido's own, Yuuta was completely unable to respond to Akutagawa's frighteningly accurate volleys.

Would Shishido be able to beat Akutagawa? What would it take?

Speed. Speed and reflexes, to reach even the unpredictable shots. Well, Shishido was fast. But hadn't Oshitari said something about needing to improve his reflexes? If he could come up with a training plan for that, he might be able to do well against Akutagawa, or almost anyone, for that matter. Maybe he could compete with Mukahi, who prided himself on his ability to pick up any ball. Taki, he might be able to beat. Taki was a good possibility.

And Otori? Could Shishido defeat him? Shishido wasn't sure if he should even consider it. He wanted Otori to stay on the regulars—he wanted to be on the regulars with him. Otori was his friend, the only good thing in his life since his defeat. Otori's hopes had become Shishido's hopes. But if Shishido was going to pursue his own dreams, he couldn't afford to let something like friendship get in the away. He had to be ready to go up against even Otori in order to get what he wanted. If he didn't have that determination, there was no way he could become a regular again.

Besides, defeating Otori would be impossible unless Shishido could return that serve. And he didn't have the strength to do that, never mind the reflexes—

Oh.

Actually, it wasn't a bad idea. If he could train himself to return that 200-kilometer per hour serve, he could probably return almost anything.

A wave of noise from the Hyoutei cheering squad interrupted his thoughts.

"What?" he said, looking up. "What's happening?"

Otori laughed at him, and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Where were you, Shishido-san?" he asked. "Jirou-senpai just won."

"Already? Must have been slaughter."

"You really weren't watching, were you?"

Shishido grinned.

"Well, Atobe is up next. I guess we won't be standing here much longer."

Atobe strolled onto the court, looking bored. His opponent, the curly-haired manager, Mizuki, stepped forward, pale beneath an obviously false smirk.

Atobe ignored him, and turned to the Hyoutei cheering squad, silencing them with a snap of his fingers. The pre-game performance seemed shorter than usual, Shishido observed, and Atobe was unusually businesslike.

If it was a strategy to frustrate the opponent, it was working. Mizuki was visibly bristling, his lips drawn tight with fury.

"You'll regret underestimating me," he hissed across the net. "I have your data."

"Hmm?" Atobe said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Did you say something?"

Mizuki turned and stomped towards the back of the court, his right first white from gripping the racket.

It had been a long time since Shishido had watched Atobe play a real game, and as much as the captain annoyed him, he had to admit that there was something captivating about it. His movements were smooth, almost calm, and he dominated the game while hardly seeming to exert himself. Atobe's confidence might be grating off the courts, but when he played, it was almost beautiful.

Shishido trembled, suddenly feeling the desire to pick up a racket. He would never command Atobe's elegance, he knew, but maybe he could acquire confidence like that—confidence based on skill, rather than false arrogance.

He turned to Otori.

"Choutarou," he said, the words which he had tried to restrain spilling out like a flood. "I'm going to be on the regulars again. Will you help me?"

It was the Hyoutei way to destroy friendship, and all connections that brought no material gain. Other people only existed to be trampled on or used.

Well, Shishido had already decided to reject the Hyoutei way, and he wasn't going to go back to it, now or ever.

* * *

It was almost dark, but Shishido could see a few stars glittering from behind shadowy clouds. Across the court, the moonlight cast a pale glow over Otori's hair, and every now and then it caused his necklace to flash.

"Shishido-san, are you sure about this?" Otori asked.

Shishido reached up to tie his hair in place.

"Ok, Choutarou!" he called, holding his racket in front of him. "I'm ready. Start serving!"

"All right," Otori said. "Here I come!"

A serve blasted by Shishido, before he could react. He gritted his teeth. It was going to take a lot of work before he would be able to return it.

"Again!" he shouted.

The second serve hit the net.

"Oops," Otori said. "Sorry about that." He tossed another ball into the air. "I Kyuu Nyuu Kon!" he yelled, as he hit it. Shishido's racket went flying.

" 'One shot with all my soul'. Is that what you said to make it work during the game today?" Shishido asked, walking up to the net.

Otori grinned.

"It seemed to work then, so I thought I would try it again."

"Fair enough," Shishido said. "Let's keep going. Shout whatever it takes."

An hour later, Shishido hadn't managed to return a single serve, but he could tell that Otori was getting too tired to continue—after all, he had played a tough game that morning. Shishido pushed aside doubts that he would ever be able to succeed at this training.

"Tomorrow night, then?" he asked.

"Sure," Otori said, his breath coming heavily. He rubbed at his arm. "I think this is pretty good training for me too."

Shishido flopped down on a bench while Otori went to change, and closed his eyes, letting the cool evening breeze blow across his face and arms.

"Interesting training method," Oshitari said. "I assume you're trying to improve your reflexes."

Shishido opened his eyes and sat up so quickly that his head began to spin.

"Ugh," he groaned. "Since when were you here? Were you _watching_?"

Oshitari smiled.

"I was just passing by, and I got curious about the noise. It's unusual for someone to use the school courts so late in the day."

"Busybody," Shishido muttered. Oshitari pretended not to hear.

"Anyway," he said. "Is this really a productive use of your time, Shishido-kun? You're off the regulars. Besides, the Scud Serve is unreturnable. No one has done it yet. I don't know if there are any middle school students with reflexes that good."

"You think I can't?" Shishido demanded. "Ha! I'll return it for sure! I'll catch it in my bare hands!"

Oshitari tilted his head to one side.

"Not a bad idea," he said, still smiling calmly. "If you could do that, you just might make it back onto the regulars after all.

* * *

**A/N: **Up next: the _real_ evil training begins.

Thanks to all of you for reading, and for your patience in waiting for this chapter! Reviews are as much loved as always.


	14. Bleeding

**A/N: **Look, it didn't take a month this time! Be proud of me :) I'm actually rather pleased with how some of this chapter came out, so I hope you all enjoy it too.

* * *

"No." Otori's voice was absolutely firm. "I won't do it, Shishido-san."

Shishido stared back at him, unwilling to plead. He bit his lip in frustration.

"Come on," he said. "It's fine, since I'm asking you to do it."

Otori shook his head violently.

"There is no way that I'm going to hit serves _while you try to catch them in your bare hands!" _His eyes, blazing with indignation, suggested that he thought Shishido was completely out of his mind.

"I have to!" Shishido insisted. "I can do it. I'm not some wimp, you don't need to worry about _hurting_ me." They glared at each other for another minute, neither willing to back down. "Please?" He hated the wheedling note in his voice,

"NO!" Otori bellowed. Shishido felt rage bubbling in his chest. He took a step forward and grabbed Otori's shirt in both hands. Otori pushed him away.

"Shishido-san," he said, making his voice calm again. "You could get seriously hurt. Even if you don't care, I do!"

Shishido saw that it didn't matter whether he begged or made demands. Appeals in the name of friendship would get him nowhere. But he needed Otori's help! Why did he have to be such a stubborn idiot, right when Shishido needed him the most?

His fist was swinging towards Otori's shoulder almost before he realized what he was doing. Otori stumbled backwards at the blow. His dark eyes widened in surprise, and then an unexpected anger. Then, his big hand, usually so gentle, slammed into his jaw. For a moment, the world vanished into darkness.

"Shishido-san! Are you all right?"

When the haze cleared from Shishido's vision, he realized that he was sprawled on the ground clutching his jaw, and that Otori was crouching beside him.

"Um," he said, still dazed. "Yeah…I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry!" Otori cried. He looked so distressed that Shishido reached out and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, Choutarou," he said. "It's all right. I hit you first, remember?" He grinned, trying to make light of it. "But wow, you punch hard. This should at least prove that I'm not breakable."

Otori nodded. He was staring at his hand as if it might suddenly leap out of control.

"I didn't mean to hit you," he said, his voice quiet. "I never hit someone because I was mad at them before."

Shishido gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"I didn't mean to hit you either," he said. "Sorry about that. But I guess that's what friends are for, to hit each other when they're being stupid. So we're even?"

Finally, Otori smiled.

"I guess so," he said. "You have an interesting way of looking at the world, Shishido-san."

"No surprise there," Shishido said. "Want to train now?"

"All right," Otori said. "If you're sure, if you really think this will be worth it."

"Let's go, then," Shishido said. "Before you change your mind."

* * *

"Ready?" Otori asked. From the other side of the court, Shishido could see that his hands were shaking.

"Go for it!" Shishido yelled back, doing his best to disguise the nervousness in his own voice. He could only afford to show a confident expression. If Otori thought that he was worried about this training, he might change his mind again.

He was so lost in thought that even though he was trying to focus, he jumped at the impact of ball on racket. Barely able to follow its blurring yellow path, he lunged forward, hand outstretched.

Too late.

Otori was already lifting his racket for another serve. And then, another. That one hit the net.

"Choutarou," he called. "If you close your eyes, the serve isn't going to go in!"

Otori grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, Shishido-san!" he said. "I really thought the last one was going to hit you."

"I told you not to worry about me," Shishido said. "It'll be fine. I need to do this."

The next one did hit him, just brushing his shoulder. Otori flinched, but the look Shishido gave him was so full of fire that he said nothing and tossed another ball into the air.

Shishido had thought he knew how hard it would be to catch a Scud Serve in his bare hands, but the reality of it was much, much worse. It reminded him of a trip to the lake a long time ago, when he had tried to catch the tiny, lightning-quick silver fish in his hands. No matter how quickly he moved, they darted away of reach as soon as his shadow passed over the calm surface of the water.

Except, of course, when he accidentally bumped into a fish, it didn't leave giant bruises that stung like hell.

The closer he got to catching the serve, the more he hurt. It was when he had almost got it in his fist that it would slam into his shoulder or chest, knocking him to the ground. He fell often and in every direction, until it was hard to tell what part of him was bruise and what part was dirt.

He grew tired, so tired that he could hardly feel the pain and no longer had to force himself to ignore it.

"Again," he called to Otori. "Serve again, Choutarou!"

His lungs burned, and his legs felt numb and heavy. His head was light, as if he was floating. He reached for the ball, felt the rush of air against his fingertips, but suddenly the world was tilting backwards and it flew out of reach. The back of his head slammed into the ground. His hand was still stretched outward, still striving, even as his eyes closed. Dimly, as if from a great distance, he heard Otori's shout of alarm.

"I'll catch it next time," he heard himself murmur, as strong arms lifted him up.

"Next time is going to have to be tomorrow, Shishido-san," Otori said, sounding weary. "Right now, I'm taking you home."

* * *

Shishido would never remember how they got to his house. If he thought about it hard, he could remember bits and pieces, snatches of the road, and the houses, and the full moon, but it was all a blur. It wasn't a long walk, but surely Otori couldn't have carried him all the way? He thought he remembered a moment resting by the side of the street, when Otori lifted a bottle of water to his lips and he drank greedily, but it might not have happened. It was all like a dream. He wasn't awake, although he wasn't quite asleep either.

They were in Shishido's room, when he came to himself. He was lying curled on his own bed, covered in sweat and dirt and blood, and Otori was shaking his shoulder gently.

"Shishido-san, are you awake?"

"No," Shishido mumbled.

"We should do something about some of those cuts," Otori said. "Where do you keep the medical kit?"

"In the closet in the hall," Shishido said, too tired to argue. "I'll shower first."

"I filled the bath," Otori said.

Shishido blinked at him, confused.

"You didn't look like you could stand up."

"Oh."

Somehow Shishido stumbled to the bathroom without help, stripped off his filthy clothing, and sank into the tub. The hot water turned murky from the dust leaving his skin, but it felt wonderful on his aching muscles. By the time he was clean, he was almost coherent, as well.

His various cuts and scrapes stung when Otori cleaned them with disinfectant, but they weren't as bad as they had looked, although he did feel rather like someone had applied a cheese grater to his arms and legs.

By the time he was patched up enough to satisfy Otori's finicky eye, it only made sense to offer to let him stay the night. Otori looked almost as tired as Shishido felt, and he accepted readily.

Shishido pulled the blankets and pillows off of his bed, and fetched more from the guest bedroom. By the time he dragged them back, Otori was sprawled on the floor, fast asleep. Even with his long limbs, he looked so _small _somehow that Shishido dropped a blanket over him—not so carefully that it would look obviously arranged, of course.

He reached over to his bedside table for his comb, and started working out some of the many knots in his hair. He winced as the comb hit a particularly nasty snarl. Let down from the ponytail he usually wore, his hair reached below his shoulders. This could take a while.

He sat there, running the comb through his hair and listening to Otori's soft breathing. Then, his thoughts drifted to the evening's training, and back to Otori's game, and the look on his face when Shishido had announced his intention to return to the regulars. His smile had been almost disbelieving, and shy, as if he had been trying to hold it back. He had looked so genuinely pleased that Shishido had known at once he had been right to tell him about it.

He didn't notice that Otori was awake until he felt the comb lifted from his hands, and a warm touch on his neck. He shivered.

"You have beautiful hair, Shishido-san," Otori said softly, running his fingers through it. "It's so silky. And long."

Shishido smiled.

"I've been growing it out since about sixth grade," he said. "My mother keeps telling me I should cut it, though."

"Oh, no!" Otori protested. His hand combed through Shishido's hair again. "I mean, you've been growing it out for all this time."

"Don't worry," Shishido said, laughing. "I'm not planning on cutting it off any time soon."

"Good," Otori said. He yawned.

"Go back to sleep, Choutarou," Shishido said, shoving him off the bed. Then, he flopped down on the mess of blankets beside him.

"What are you doing, Shishido-san?"

"It's not fair for me to have the bed and you to have the floor," Shishido said. "So I'm sleeping on the floor too. I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us."

Otori immediately rolled over, but not before Shishido glimpsed his face flush bright red.

"Goodnight Shishido-san," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"Night," Shishido said.

They were quiet for a minute, and Shishido thought that Otori had gone to sleep again. Then, he spoke.

"Are you going to beat someone, to get on the regulars?"

"That's the plan," Shishido said, feeling a now-familiar jolt of excitement.

"Who?"

"I haven't decided."

"How about Taki-senpai?" Otori said.

"Taki? I guess I could probably beat him. At least after I can catch your serve."

"When you beat him…" Otori said, in almost a whisper. "When you beat him…will you play doubles with me in the next match?"

"Is that why you agreed to help me?" Shishido asked, not sure what to answer.

"No! I mean…" Otori trailed off again, sounding alarmed. "I want to help you, I really do. And even if you don't want to do it, of course I want you to be on the regulars, it's just that–"

Shishido put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine, Choutarou," he said. "I'm not really a doubles player, though."

"Oh," Otori said in a small voice. "Ok."

"No," Shishido said. "It's just that you'll have to put up with me not knowing what to do, and stuff. But I'll try it, if you want." It was only fair. If Otori was going to go so far to help Shishido get back on the regulars, he couldn't refuse such a request.

"Thank you, Shishido-san!" It was dark in the room, but Shishido could hear Otori's smile.

Who knows? Maybe they would be a decent combination. Stranger things had happened. If Shishido could make it back onto the regulars, anything was possible.

* * *

A/N: I've been looking forward to that last scene for a while :) Of course, don't think that this means everything is nicely settled! (evil author laughter)

Reviews are always greatly appreciated!


	15. Wings

**A/N: **Ack, another way-too-long delay. Sorry about that! (I have the feeling most of my chapters start with apologies...)Well, in any event, thank you for waiting patiently! I'd like to extend special thanks to LiQuYu, who gave me my 100th review on this story. I'm really thrilled that so many people are reading it!

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Shishido and Otori's life took on a routine of sorts. They would doze through their classes, and then Otori would go to practice while Shishido went for a run. Then, they would go to a convenience store or café and have a snack, and head to the courts. Otori would hit serve after serve, and Shishido would try to catch them. When they were both completely exhausted--usually late at night, since neither of them liked to admit weariness--they would go back to Shishido's house and clean up.

Most days, Otori was too tired to go home, and both of them would end up collapsing on the heap of blankets that had become a permanent fixture on Shishido's floor. Some mornings, Shishido would wake up to find that he was using Otori's chest as a pillow, or that Otori had flung out an arm or leg during the night and pinned him to the floor.

After a failed experiment at doing laundry at 2:00 AM in the morning while trying to finish the next day's math homework, they decided that it would be easier for Otori to leave multiple changes of clothing at Shishido's place. And when Shishido found himself at the grocery store one day picking up Otori's favorite kind of sugary breakfast cereal, he had to wonder when exactly Otori had moved in to his house.

"I went home yesterday," Otori protested, when Shishido pointed this out. "Umm, I think...?"

"No that was two days ago," Shishido corrected. "Or maybe three. Oh, whatever. Don't your parents notice if you don't come home?"

"They're busy, I guess," Otori said. "I call every few days to let them know I'm staying over with a friend. I'm terribly sorry to be imposing on you so much, Shishido-san. It's just that I can't seem to stay awake long enough to go home..."

"Well, I asked you to help me with this, after all," Shishido said. "And it's not like my parents are paying attention either." He yawned. "I'm not even sure if my mom has noticed that you've slept in my room almost every day for the past two weeks." After all, the parents of Hyoutei students tended to be either extremely uninvolved or extremely controlling. Shishido was grateful that his parents were the former.

"Ah, maybe when you're back on the team you can come stay at my house for a while," Otori said. They smiled at each other.

It was a frustrating and exhilarating time. Some days, Shishido felt that he was definitely getting stronger, and that he was growing closer to catching Otori's serve. On other days, he only seemed to be getting bruises in exchange for his efforts. Perhaps he would have caught the serve already, if Otori had not been also growing stronger from the hours of practice. He could not afford relax in his training, because if he allowed Otori to outstrip him, he would never catch a Scud Serve.

But even then, it felt better to be in motion. The sound of the ball as it hit Otori's racket and the sweep of Otori's arm became ingrained in him, as if they were part of his breath or his heartbeat. The feeling of springing into motion, of dashing and throwing everything into movement became second nature.

If he jumped enough times, he might begin to fly.

That was Shishido's tennis.

* * *

Shishido was fast asleep when his cell phone went off—luckily, he had set it to silent, so it wouldn't wake Otori. Shishido carefully stepped over the pile of blankets and slipped out the door of his room.

"Hello?"

"Shishido," Atobe said coolly.

"What the hell, Atobe?" Shishido hissed into the phone, rubbing his free hand over his eyes. "Do you have any idea what time it is right now?"

"It is just after one o'clock in the morning," Atobe replied, sounding amused. "I'm free right now, so I would like to claim the game you owe me."

Shishido felt suddenly alert. He was tired, and half-asleep, but the prospect of a game with Atobe awakened his fighting spirit.

"Where?" he asked. "It'll take me at least twenty minutes to get to school."

"A car is on its way to pick you up and take you there. It will arrive in just a few minutes." Atobe hung up.

Shishido poked his head back inside his bedroom. Otori was still fast asleep, his breathing slow and rhythmic. He pulled on his club jersey over the t-shirt and shorts he had been sleeping in, and grabbed his sports bag.

When he arrived at school, something about Atobe looked strange. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

"Where's Kabaji?" he asked.

Atobe raised an eyebrow.

"At his home, sleeping," he said, his voice dripping scorn. "Why would I wake him up in the middle of the night?"

"Oh, good question," Shishido muttered.

"In any event, let us begin. I will generously allow you the first serve."

Shishido rubbed his hands together, and nodded.

He played tennis with Atobe before, during his brief time on the regulars-usually as a warm-up or light game. Atobe had never played him seriously—he had never needed to, he could beat Shishido easily enough as it was. But now, from the look in Atobe's eyes, Shishido knew that Hyoutei's captain was not going to hold back. There was a spark there he had never seen before, an energy that he now realized Atobe usually hid behind bored arrogance.

He wasn't sure why Atobe wanted to go all-out with him, but he had a sinking sensation that he was about to be crushed. He thought he might start shaking.

"I kyuu nyuu kon!" he muttered to himself.

It wasn't a Scud Serve, but at least it didn't hit the net. Atobe returned it effortlessly, though.

During the St. Rudolph match, Shishido had observed that Atobe's play was beautiful, but tonight there was also a fierceness to it, an almost feral quality that was mirrored in his wild eyes. Here was Atobe unleashed, his true form. Shishido had always wanted that confidence and power. It was impossible, wasn't it?

Based on play alone, Atobe was probably defeating him more thoroughly than Tachibana had ever done, but Shishido never once lost control of himself. Atobe was so far superior that Shishido could barely scrape a point or two, but at least his body was going where he told it to, and he was catching up to Atobe's shots. He was overpowered, but not helpless.

And somehow, instead of feeling crushed, his spirit was rising as if it had been cut free from some restraint. Anyone who believed that Atobe did not take tennis seriously was a fool. He had never liked Atobe, or been anything other than annoyed by him, but tonight, in this game, he saw a captain that he would gladly follow. He _wanted _to be a part of Atobe's team.

He flung himself into the game with all of his might. If Atobe was holding nothing back, Shishido could only try even harder. He had to give more power, more speed, until his body had reached its limit.

_I'll jump, and before I fall, I'll fly. _

But when the game was over, and he collapsed panting on the ground, unable even to muster the strength to stand, Atobe's eyes were inscrutable. Was Shishido still too weak? Had all his work so far been for nothing?

He refused to believe it!

At last, Atobe's lip curled in a smirk.

"Idiot," he said. "You're completely finished, aren't you?"

Shishido glared up at him and gritted his teeth, blinded by the sweat dripping down his face.

"I'm…" he croaked, but wasn't able to say anything.

"Hyoutei has no use for you right now," Atobe said. His voice did not match the harshness of his words, however. "We don't need singles players, and even if we did, you aren't good enough." He gazed down at Shishido, as a disinterested scientist might peer through his microscope at a specimen. "You've improved, though. If it's doubles, your hard work might still have a chance to pay off."

Shishido pulled himself shakily to his feet.

"The question," Atobe said, touching a finger to his chin, "is if you have what it takes for doubles. Oshitari claims that you have some aptitude for it."

"Hah," Shishido said, his lungs still burning. "What does he know, anyway?"

Atobe ignored him.

"Listen, Shishido," he said. "Hyoutei doesn't have a decent doubles combination yet. Oshitari and Mukahi are the best we have, they're experienced, they know each other, but they aren't an ideal pair."

"The mistake most players make in doubles is that they don't trust their partner enough. They worry about their partner's mistakes, and either try to do everything themselves or spend too much time covering for the holes in their partner's game. That's the problem with Oshitari and Mukahi. They're too aware of each other's flaws, and they can't ever let go of that awareness."

"But if your partner is your weakness, you yourself will never become strong. Your doubles partner cannot be the one holding you to the earth—he must be your strength, your wings! If you can achieve that…" Atobe paused. "Well, be grateful that I have seen fit to enlighten you with my insights."

Shishido stared at him.

"Does this mean..?" he managed, not even sure of what he was asking.

"Technically, it's impossible for you to become a regular again," Atobe said. "And the decision about who is on the team belongs to Coach Sakaki, not I. But if you agree to play doubles, and get Coach to put you back on the team, I won't present any objections."

Shishido bowed.

"Thank you, Atobe-buchou," he said.

"No need to thank me," Atobe said, waving a hand. "I'm naturally generous. Besides, I have the feeling that this was already your plan. Someone seems to be waiting for you."

Shishido followed Atobe's gaze over to the entrance. Otori stood there, still as a statue. Shishido wondered how long he had been watching for—and had he _walked _all the way to school from Shishido's house in the middle of the night?

Without a glance back, Atobe strolled off the court, nodding to Otori as he passed.

"It's kind of late," Shishido said, as Otori walked up to him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Same goes for you, Shishido-san," Otori said calmly. Shishido saw that he was already holding his racket. "I didn't think you liked to go running around on Atobe's orders."

Shishido shrugged.

"A game's a game," he said. "I wasn't about to turn down the opportunity. If Atobe wants to play a game with me, it doesn't really matter how late it is."

"And if Shishido-san wants to play a game, it doesn't matter to me how late it is," Otori echoed. "But you look pretty exhausted."

"I'm fine," Shishido said, feeling his muscles scream in protest at the lie. "But if we play a game, we won't get any sleep at all. Why did you come out here, anyway? It's late, and you shouldn't go wandering around in the dark by yourself like that."

Otori smiled, as if he knew something Shishido did not.

"I had a feeling that tonight was the night," he said.

"Ok, then!" Shishido said, grinning. "Let's try a few shots, before we head home." He tossed his racket onto the bench at the side of the court.

As he faced Otori across the net, new strength came flooding into his limbs. The pain vanished, as if suddenly numbed by the shiver that ran down his spine.

"I KYUU NYUU KON!"

Even as the ball connected with the racket, Shishido dashed forward. He could already see the path it was going to take. He ran, and then reached out. The ball was coming directly at his chest. It would hurt a lot when it hit him. He was about to flinch when he realized that he was clutching something tightly in his fist.

He stared at it, and then looked up at Otori's incredulous grin. If that moment could have lasted forever, he wouldn't have wanted anything else in the world. He took a deep breath.

"All right," he said.

* * *

Thanks for reading! It would seem that we are beginning to approach the end of the story :(

Reviews are as appreciated as always!


	16. Sacrifice

**A/N: **Look, super-speedy update! (And Shishido's big day is here) I'm not sure if there is going to be one more chapter after this or two more, but in any event, we're awfully close to the end. I stayed up way too late finishing this chapter, so if there are any typos and such, please forgive me!

* * *

Shishido woke up the next morning to someone shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes, and saw Otori staring down at him.

"I made breakfast, Shishido-san," he said. "Come eat."

"Didn't know you could cook," Shishido mumbled, throwing off his blanket.

"I can't, really," Otori admitted, blushing. "But I made eggs, and only burned about half the toast. And there's cereal."

"Thanks," Shishido said, surprised. Usually they both woke up at the same time, and scrounged for breakfast out of whatever was left in the kitchen. "What's the occasion, though?"

Then, everything that had happened the previous night (or, really, just a few hours ago) came flooding back. He remembered his game with Atobe, how he had been completely defeated, and how Atobe had asked him to play doubles.

He remembered the moment of elation, when he had finally caught Otori's serve.

"Oh, right," he said.

"Today's the day you're going to beat Taki-senpai, right?" Otori said. "So if you want to get back on the regulars, you better eat a good breakfast."

"Yes, mother," Shishido said, grinning. Before going down to eat, he ran a brush through his hair, and tied it back into his usual ponytail.

"It's getting a bit ragged," he said. "Maybe I'll need a victory hair cut."

"Do you have a hair scissors?" Otori asked. "I can do it for you later on."

"You cut hair? You sure seem to have a lot of talents today," Shishido said. "But sure, as long as you don't cut off too much. Go ahead and eat, I'll grab the scissors on my way down."

* * *

When Shishido strolled onto the regular's court that morning, Taki spared him only a cursory glance before turning to Otori.

"Come on, Otori-kun," he said. "We have another game coming up soon. We'd better not waste time."

Otori shuffled his feet, and stared at the ground.

Shishido opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Otori straightened and met Taki's gaze.

"Shishido-san is going to play a match with you today," he said.

"What?" Taki said, giving Shishido another annoyed look. "Otori, I don't think you understand. The Kantou Tournament isn't the same as that little consolation match against St. Rudolph, and to be honest, we're nowhere near–"

"It's a challenge," Shishido said, stepping forward and slinging his racket over his shoulder. "For your spot on the regulars."

Taki swallowed hard, but his glare did not waver.

"That's impossible," he said. "You're an ex-regular. You _lost. _There's no way you can challenge me."

Shishido cocked his head to one side, making his expression as insolent as he could manage. Actually, he was feeling rather confident. It was a good day. No way was he going to lose to Taki.

"Are you scared?" he demanded. "Scared to find out that you don't deserve to be on the regulars?"

"I deserve it more than you," Taki snapped. "You're so pathetic. You completely failed, and now you can't even accept it. All you've got is arrogance."

Their voices had risen, and a crowd of club members was starting to gather around them.

"Maybe that was true a month ago," Shishido said. "But I'm totally different now. I'll crush you."

"Hah!" Taki snorted. "You haven't got it in you to be a regular. If I play a match with you, will you stop talking already?"

Shishido grinned.

"If you can make me."

"Fine," Taki said. "Let's get this over with. Otori-kun, will you be the referee?"

"S-sure," Otori said.

"You can serve first," Shishido said. "Since I'm the challenger."

Taki shrugged.

"Whatever."

Shishido took a deep breath, as his chest suddenly tightened with apprehension. For the first time in over a month, he was playing a match that actually mattered. If he succeeded, if he could defeat Taki, he might be able to get back on the regulars. But for that to happen, he would have to make the game spectacular. His right arm began to tremble, and he struggled to keep a grip on his racket.

"Come on," he shouted, as much to himself as to Taki.

Taki's serve wasn't particularly fast or powerful. Compared to Otori's, it was downright pathetic. But suddenly, Shishido found himself unable to move. It was as if his legs were paralyzed, and wouldn't go where he told them.

"15-love."

"Damn," he hissed. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't his body working?

"30-love."

He had to move. He had to run. Why couldn't he move? What was he afraid of?

"45-love." There were murmurs from the spectators. Shishido was suddenly transported to his game with Tachibana. He could hear the jeers and catcalls that still made him want to die from shame.

"1 game to love, Taki leads." Shishido heard an audible quaver in Otori's voice, as if he, too, was nervous.

That was right. Otori was watching. Otori, who had worked so hard with him, who had sacrificed time and sleep so that Shishido could become strong. Otori, who was waiting for Shishido to make it on to the regulars.

He closed his eyes, remembering what Atobe had said to him only a few hours before. This was a singles match. Otori wasn't on the court with him right now, and Shishido was alone.

But he had to win this battle, so that they could fight on together.

He served, and dashed forward as Taki returned the shot. It was slow, it was easy to hit the ball where Taki could not reach. And the next one, and the next.

Shishido laughed, as his tired muscles came back to life. It was too simple. This was nothing like catching a Scud Serve. Taki couldn't hit a single ball that he couldn't return. What had he been afraid of? He had already decided that he was here to win, not to worry about how he looked in front of the tennis club. He'd lost the first game pathetically, but that was in the past now.

Taki was breathing hard, unable to keep up with Shishido's speed. In the third game, his serves were already starting to falter.

Shishido sent him back each one, four return aces.

By then, Taki's eyes had widened, and a familiar expression of panic was showing in his eyes. He started missing serves, and then missing even the points that he should have been able to claim.

"Game to Shishido," Otori called, his voice carefully neutral. "Six games to one."

Shishido felt strangely numb. He stood there and waited, staring at his fallen opponent, and balancing his racket on the tip of his finger.

Now, the air was filled with murmurs of disbelief.

"No way," Shishido heard someone say. "He beat a _regular_, six to one? That's incredible!"

"But why does he have all those bruises?" someone else asked.

He heard heavy footsteps, and then sudden silence. Coach Sakaki had appeared on the walkway behind the bleachers, surveying the court like a king on his throne.

"What's causing all the ruckus?" he demanded.

A chorus of nervous club members hurried to fill him in, and report the results of the match.

Another long silence. Shishido slowly craned his neck around to face the coach, his heart pounding.

"Very well," Sakaki said. "Taki will be dropped from the regulars. Hiyoshi will replace him."

Shishido's stomach heaved, as if a fist had plunged into his gut.

"That is all," Sakaki said. "Begin practice."

Shishido's temper reached its breaking point. After all he had been through, and all his training, was it really going to end here?

"Coach!" he yelled. "Why is it Hiyoshi? Why not me? I'm the one who defeated him!"

Sakaki ignored him, and began to walk away from the scene.

"That's disgraceful, Shishido," Atobe said, his expression bored. "Our coach never uses players who have lost. After what happened with Tachibana, there's no way you could be a regular again."

Shishido stared at him, dumbfounded. After what Atobe had told him the night before, why was he suddenly going back on his word? Hadn't he promised to support him? His arms fell to his sides. He felt suddenly exhausted.

But Otori had stepped forward, his fists clenched.

"Atobe-buchou!" he said, his dark eyes fierce. "Shishido-san has trained unimaginably hard since then! You know he has!"

Atobe's lip lifted in a familiar half-smile.

"Idiots," he said. "If that's the case, why don't you go talk to the coach about it, instead of standing here wasting your breath."

"Come on, Shishido-san," Otori said. "You can't give up yet!"

Shishido nodded.

"All right," he said. "I'll go talk to him again." He took off running in the direction that Sakaki had headed, hearing Otori's footsteps behind him.

Sakaki turned as they reached him.

"Is there something else you want?" he asked with a scowl.

Shishido took a deep breath, and flung himself to the ground. What was his pride worth, compared to his dreams?

He bowed his head so low that his hair brushed the dirt. "I'm begging you! Please let me be on the regulars again!"

"You don't understand how hard Shishido has trained," Otori said, looking Sakaki directly in the eye. He reached up to clutch his silver cross. "I trained with him for the past two weeks. He's worked so hard, he's shed sweat and blood…" he trailed off. "Please! I'm also asking you for this!"

Sakaki brought a hand to his chin, considering.

"Then, do you want to be dropped out of the regulars instead, Otori?" he asked softly.

Both of them started. Shishido glanced up at Otori in horror.

Otori's eyes widened, and his face contorted as if with great pain. Then, his expression settled into a gentle smile. He turned away from Shishido, to face the coach.

"I don't mind."

For a moment, Shishido thought that he was going to suffocate. The world seemed to spin so suddenly that he didn't know what to do.

This was his chance. This was what he had always wanted. He could not refuse—it was not his choice. But If Otori was going to make this sacrifice, he too would dedicate himself to it.

He plunged a hand into his pocket to remove the scissors that still rested there. Snip. Snip.

"Shishido-san!" Otori cried

_You idiot_, Shishido wanted to say. _Why are you still thinking about me? Compared to what you gave up, this is nothing!_

The blades snapped together, and a long lock of Shishido's hair fell to the ground. Click. Another hunk, and then another drifted down beside it. He hacked until it was all gone, and his remaining hair stuck up in ravaged, uneven clumps.

He heard someone approach from behind them.

"Coach," Atobe said, his face unusually serious. "This guy still hasn't lost a game." He pointed at Otori. "I'm asking you, as a favor. Leave him on the team."

Sakaki's eyes narrowed.

"Do whatever you want," he said, and left.

"You didn't need to do that, Atobe-buchou," Otori said, still wearing that calm smile.

"Hmmph," Atobe said. "I'm just helping you out this once. There won't be a second time."

Otori bowed.

"Thank you very much," he said.

Shishido still crouched on the ground, surrounded by the ruins of his hair.

"That looks terrible," Atobe said.

Shishido glared at him.

"After what Choutarou pulled–"

"You should go after him," Atobe interrupted.

"What?" Shishido said, looking around them. "Wait, what the hell? Where'd he run off to?"

Otori had already vanished into the distance.

* * *

We're getting close! Thank you for all your reviews so far, they have been a huge encouragement for me. I can't quite believe I am almost finished with this story. It has been a long journey for Shishido (and for me!)


	17. Partners

**A/N: **The penultimate chapter has arrived--just one more to go. Not sure what else to say...hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"Hey, Choutarou!" Shishido yelled, rounding another corner. Otori was nowhere to be founded. Where could he have disappeared to so quickly? He had checked the clubhouse and the tennis courts, in case Otori had headed to practice, and the hill where they often ate lunch.

And why had he given up his spot on the regulars? There was no reason for him to be so stupid. Taki had lost his spot, after all. Otori wouldn't have to play doubles with him any more. Shishido knew Hiyoshi slightly from his time on the pre-regulars, and he was a good player, if a bit of an ass. Everyone had been expecting him to get on the regulars the next time a slot opened up—there had even been talk that he would be the next captain, impossible as it was to imagine the club without Atobe. Anyway, he would probably have been a fine doubles partner for Otori.

Shishido scowled. Was it possible that Otori didn't want to be on the team at all, that he had been lying to Shishido when he had said that he did? Perhaps he had resented Atobe's interference, and had wanted to be released from the regulars. Maybe that was what he had wanted all along.

If it hadn't been for Otori, he never would have perfected his dash. He never would have had any hope of becoming a regular again.

He might still be suffering from nightmares of his defeat, and burning with anger at perceived slights and injustices. Otori had been his path away from the arrogance that had once consumed him.

Otori had asked him to play doubles once he was back on the regulars. It hadn't been just something he had agreed with in exchange for Otori's help, he realized. He had wanted to try playing doubles with Otori. At the moment when Otori had told Sakaki he didn't mind being dropped, Shishido had felt something akin to actual pain

He didn't just want to win.

He wanted to win together with Otori. He wanted to stand on the court beside him.

"Choutarou!" he called again, and then stopped walking at last. Where would Otori go, if he was upset about something? An image rose to his mind, of Otori bent over the piano, his eyes closed and his fingers dancing furiously across the keys. The music room!

Standing in the hallway in front of the music room, he didn't hear anything. He sighed, but decided to open the door just in case Otori might be inside anyway. He cracked it open, and peered in.

Otori sat slumped over the keyboard of the baby grand piano. His hands rested by his sides, nowhere near the piano. He turned as the door creaked, and, catching sight of Shishido, he visibly flinched.

Shishido stood facing him, not sure what to say.

Otori looked away.

"I'm sorry, Shishido-san" he said, breaking the silence. "I'm glad you're back on the regulars. I…" his voice quavered slightly, and he trailed off.

There was a heavy feeling in Shishido's chest, in the face of such misery.

"I don't understand," Shishido said. "What's wrong? Aren't we both on the regulars now?"

"Your hair," Otori said, biting his lower lip. "Aren't you upset about that?"

Shishido would have laughed, if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"You're worried about _that?" _he said. "It's just hair. I cut it off. Now I look like an idiot. So what?"

Otori gave a small smile.

"I can neaten it up, if you like," he said. "It'll look better without all those tufts sticking out."

Shishido felt a bit reassured—at least Otori didn't seem to hate him or anything. But there was still something strange about how his smile was not reaching his eyes.

"Seriously," he said. "What's wrong?"

Otori looked away again.

"You don't have to play doubles with me, Shishido-san."

Shishido felt his heart suddenly skip a beat.

"I don't understand," he said. "I told you that I would."

"I take it back," Otori said, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. "You don't have to do it."

"I don't understand," Shishido said again. "You don't want to play doubles with me?"

Otori shook his head vehemently.

"I didn't say that. But I don't want to hold you back! I don't want to be a burden to you, Shishido-san. I have my pride, as a friend and as a member of Hyoutei's tennis club."

"You don't want to hold me back?" Shishido echoed, astonished. "But why…?"

"I watched you train," Otori said. "I watched you play Taki. You had this look in your eyes…this determination. I've never seen anything like it. It was more than just wanting to beat him. You deserve to be a regular! But I…"

For a moment Shishido thought he might stop there, but Otori clenched his fists and continued to speak.

"I'm nothing like that," he said. "I'm so selfish. If I couldn't play doubles with you, it didn't seem worth being on the team."

Shishido grabbed him by the shoulders, his fingers tightening so hard that it must have been painful.

"You idiot_!" _Shishido said, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart. "Didn't it occur to you that I might feel the same way?"

Otori's eyes widened.

"You _want _to play doubles? With me?"

"Yeah," said Shishido. "I do."

"I thought…" Suddenly, Otori broke into a wide smile. "All right, Shishido-san! But there's a catch."

"Eh? What now?"

"We have to be Doubles 1."

Shishido laughed, running a hand through what remained of his hair. The lightness felt weird.

"Sure, why not? But do you want to actually practice before we challenge Oshitari and Mukahi to a match?"

* * *

Hiyoshi had also been appointed as a new regular, leaving the Hyoutei team with eight members for the first time. While this meant that someone would have to be an alternate in the upcoming match with Seigaku, the main problem was that there were only seven regulars' lockers.

"I'm a regular now," Hiyoshi insisted, glaring at Shishido. "And the coach named me one, too. I didn't have to go get a stupid haircut, or anything."

"You should respect your senpai," Shishido growled, glaring back. "I'm a third year, and you aren't. Besides, your haircut is already stupid."

"I don't care," Hiyoshi muttered. "_Gekokujyou._"

"Um," Otori said, stepping in between them. "Someone can have my locker. I don't mind."

"No!" they both snapped.

"It's fine, Choutarou," Shishido said, shooting Hiyoshi a dirty look. "We'll deal with it."

"But my locker used to belong to you, so it's only fair if you take it."

"Will you all just shut up!"? Mukahi yelled, stamping his foot in frustration. "You're making a racket, and it's annoying. Some of us are trying to change here!"

Luckily, at that point Oshitari entered to put an end to the discussion.

"Otori, Shishido, you should share a locker. Neither of you has too many possessions, and you won't murder each other fighting over the space. Now come on. Atobe wants you two to do some extra doubles practice with me and Gakuto."

"Extra practice?" Shishido grumbled, although he didn't really mind. "Why should we?"

"Because Atobe's going to treat us to dinner afterwards," Oshitari said.

"Yuushi, does Atobe know that?" Mukahi asked with a grin.

Oshitari smirked.

"Well, not yet," he said.

It was strange how natural the situation felt. Shishido couldn't say that he was completely used to it yet, but he didn't have that feeling of being the odd one out, of not belonging, like he had when he had been on the regulars before. This time, he actually knew the other regulars, even if most of them were incredibly annoying.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be part of a team.

* * *

The next morning, when Shishido opened his (shared locker), there was a small package, hand-wrapped and addressed to him. Inside was a blue cap.

He smiled.

"Ooh, Shishido has a secret admirer," Mukahi whistled, coming up behind him. "Somebody actually likes you?"

"Obviously," Shishido said. "So shut up."

Well, the fact that the locker had been locked and only one other person had the key was a pretty dead giveaway, but Shishido decided to take his own advice and keep his mouth shut.

That kind of thing could get kind of embarrassing, after all.

* * *

Shishido was surprised—although not too surprised—to find that playing doubles with Otori felt as natural as breathing. They seemed to instinctively understand each other's movements.

No, that wasn't quite it. Building a partnership in doubles didn't happen overnight, no matter how well the two people involved knew each other. And there were plenty of friends who would make terrible doubles partners, because their personalities or their play styles were completely incompatible.

But Shishido and Otori trusted each other, and that made up for their lack of experience. Otori knew that Shishido would pick up the balls that he missed, and Shishido trusted Otori's serves and net play. They could work together, because they believed in each other's tennis.

And it was lucky that their play styles worked perfectly together. They had little experience in doubles, and with just another week until the match against Seigaku, they weren't going to get it. But even without fancy formations, strategies, and sign play, they became Hyoutei's best doubles pair for a very simple reason.

They were determined, and they almost never missed points. Shishido was convinced that this was all there was to their success.

To the astonishment (and bemusement of all), after five days as a pair, they beat Oshitari and Mukahi in a long and drawn out tiebreaker, seven games to six. It was mostly because of Otori's serve, and because Mukahi's stamina had broken by the eleventh game, but it was a good start.

Hyoutei's new Doubles 1 had arrived.

* * *

Just one more chapter, folks! I'm going to try to finish (and post) a special epilogue oneshot at the same time as I post the final chapter, so look forward to it!


	18. New Day

A/N:

Oh my god, the final chapter, it's here! I'm happy to be done, but also really, really sad it's over. It has been seven months, and I've received over a hundred reviews. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and written to me. I've enjoyed meeting you all, and I hope you'll continue to read my other fanfiction.

When I first conceived of the idea, my original outline called for four chapters, and it had a very straightforward plot. As I began writing, and the words poured out, it took on a life of its own, and I think I am mostly pleased with what I have been able to show. Before I started writing Out of Defeat, I thought I was a Seigaku writer, who was taking a small detour. Hah! Shishido, and Otori, and Oshitari, and Gakuto, and Atobe proved me very wrong.

So, thank you so much for all your support and kind words. Without them, I never would have been able to finish this project! As a special epilogue gift for you all, I have posted a one-shot from Oshitari's POV, called **Towards Victory. **It tells a bit of what was going on in Oshitari's head during the story (for those of you who have speculated), as well as a brief snatch of what happens afterwards.

* * *

"All right," Atobe said, gesturing for the regulars to be quiet. "Let me awe you all with my perfect line-up for tomorrow's match against Seigaku."

They were gathered around the dinner table at Oshitari's house, picking at the remains of a once-impressive pile of food, which had consisted of everything from roast beef to pizza to sushi—Oshitari had instructed everyone to contribute to the meal, and they all had vastly different ideas of what made a good dinner. Of course, except for Atobe, they ate pretty much indiscriminately.

"You realize we already pretty much know what the line-up is going to be?" Mukahi asked, through a mouthful of chips. " Yuushi and I are in Doubles 2, Shishido and Otori are in Doubles 1, you're in Singles 1, Kabaji is usually in Singles 2 or Singles 3."

"So you're intelligent enough to anticipate my brilliance," Atobe said coolly. "Kabaji will be in Singles 3, na, Kabaji?"

"Usu."

"Jirou will be in Singles 2. Jirou, did you hear that? Jirou?" He prodded the sleeping regular with an elbow. "Well, make sure that someone tells him that by tomorrow."

Hiyoshi scowled.

"So I'm the alternate?"

"Yes," Atobe said. "Any problems?"

Wisely, Hiyoshi decided not to press the issue.

"Good. So," he continued. "You all know that we're playing Seigaku tomorrow. We beat them last year, and I have no doubt that we can do it again. However, there are a few players that bear watching. Their doubles is generally weak, although they do have the 'Golden Pair', Oishi and Kikumaru."

Mukahi hissed, and Oshitari kicked him under the table.

"Chances are they'll be in Doubles 1," Atobe said. "So, Otori, Shishido, we're counting on you."

Otori and Shishido exchanged looks, and nodded. Shishido felt a rush of excitement.

"The one to watch out for is Oishi—he controls the game. You're used to playing Mukahi, so Kikumaru's acrobatics shouldn't be a problem. Now, the only other challenge I anticipate is Tezuka."

"He beat our captain last year," Oshitari commented. "But if anyone can win against him, it's you, Atobe."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Atobe said dryly. "Well, other than those three players, I don't anticipate much trouble. But they have been playing well this season, so I expect you all to be in top form. We're aiming for the nationals this year. Clear?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"Good," he said. "Now, let's have the cake." He snapped his fingers, and two servants wheeled in a cart laden with a…monstrosity.

It was white, three layers high, surrounded by strawberries and crinkly white frosting. The entire top was decorated in flowers and gold leaf and marzipan, beautifully arranged to represent the Hyoutei crest. On top of that was set a model tennis ball and racket, also edible.

"At least it isn't decorated with a statue of himself," Shishido whispered to Otori.

"Well, I'm sure it will taste good," Otori said, eying it nervously. "I'm just a little scared of eating something that looks like it came from a museum."

"All right!" Jirou said, having woken up at some point during the discussion. "No one's going home until the whole thing is gone!"

"And if you make a mess in my dining room, you aren't going home until the whole place is clean," Oshitari muttered.

* * *

The weather was good, their spirits were high, and everything seemed to be going according to plan until the Hyoutei regulars received word that Seigaku's Oishi was injured, and would be unable to play.

"Kikumaru, the other half of the Golden Pair, has been moved to Doubles 2, along with a second year, Momoshiro," Atobe announced. "I think that's the obnoxious one we met at the street courts the other day. He should be no trouble. He's not even a Seigaku regular right now."

"Hear that, Yuushi?" Mukahi was bouncing up and down on his toes. "I'll finally get the chance to show that Kikumaru who's acrobatics are best!"

"Don't get overexcited, Gakuto," Oshitari said. "I'm sure we'll win with no trouble against a makeshift doubles pair like that. By the way," he said, turning to Shishido. "What's with the hat?"

Shishido reached up to feel the back of the blue cap, on his forehead.

"It's for luck," he said. Behind him, Otori smiled.

"Let's go warm up, Shishido-san," he said.

* * *

When Shishido saw the Seigaku players, his first thought was that Atobe and Oshitari had underestimated them.

They didn't look that impressive, but there was something in their eyes that made Shishido feel that they had hidden strength. It seemed like they were players who could put everything they had into a game.

It was going to be a good match. He was looking forward to it.

He wasn't surprised that Oshitari and Mukahi lost. He and Otori weren't there for the whole game—they had their own match to prepare for—but he could tell that they weren't focused. Mukahi was wasting his strength on a pointless acrobatic challenge, while Oshitari was playing around and failing to take the game seriously.

Afterwards, Mukahi looked furious, while Oshitari seemed to be taking the loss calmly. Shishido knew that he must be seething inside as well. It wasn't clear that Sakaki was planning to drop them from the regulars, but it was certainly a possibility. And if he didn't, it was still unlikely that they would play doubles together again this season.

He'd only been playing doubles for a week, but he would hate to be separated from Otori.

"There's no way we're going to lose like that, Choutarou," he said.

Otori nodded.

"Let's play our hardest."

"No," Shishido said, giving him a gentle shove. "Let's win."

"All right," Otori said, grinning. "Let's win."

Here it was, their debut. After weeks of training, and suffering, they were about to begin their first test. It was a beginning.

The last time Shishido had stepped onto a court as a new regular, he had failed, and his dreams had been crushed. But those had been foolish dreams. Now, he was learning how to play for himself, and how to be part of a team. He knew what he really wanted.

"You ready?" he asked Otori.

"Yes," Otori said.

Shishido picked up his racket. As he stood, he thought he felt Otori's lips briefly brush against his forehead.

"Then let's go."

He stepped onto the court, with Otori just behind him, balancing his racket on one finger. All around them, the air was filled with murmurs from the Hyoutei tennis club, subdued at the unexpected loss. Well, that was no good.

"HEY!" he yelled, tilting his head back and feeling his voice lift up towards the clouds. "You aren't giving up, are you? Hyoutei's going to win, right?"

Dead silence.

"Then use your voices to support us, morons!"

The cheers began, first tentative, but growing louder and louder until they became thunderous.

"The winner will be Hyoutei! The winner will be Hyoutei! THE WINNER WILL BE HYOUTEI!"

He drank in the energy, reveled in it.

Loss was always a possibility, but for them, there would be no more defeat.

From now on, they were moving, together, towards victory.

**The End**

* * *


End file.
